


Variegated Grey

by Phoenix_Emrys



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Emrys/pseuds/Phoenix_Emrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shades of Grey from the perspective of one of the members of SG-1 who was left in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 spoilers. A Major re-telling of 'Shades of Grey'.
> 
> I haven't been able to track down an original Part 0 for this one (it's old!) but it was written some time in early 2001. I think.

I can't believe I'm doing this. 

Jack's as nervous as hell.  Can't tell it to look at him, but I know him too well to be taken in by appearances.  It's nothing he's done. He's been very well behaved since we got here.  Must be the dress uniform or something.  Though he's projecting the appearance of cool, controlled aplomb he's definitely not at ease; I can feel the restless tension percolating behind the calm façade of the man at my side as I try and master my own nervousness before addressing the High Chancellor. 

Don't worry Jack. I won't back out on you.  I said I'll do this, and what's more I'll give it my best shot.  I know how much this means to you. 

If you'd told me a week ago I'd be standing here in the council chamber on Tollana preparing to try and convince our new 'friends' to put aside their justified reservations about handing out pop guns to a bunch of unruly children I'd have laughed in your face.  Especially as I happen to agree with them!  I'm still not entirely convinced putting an ion canon in the hands of the US military is in the best interests of the citizens of the entire planet.  I was even less enthusiastic about the idea when Jack first brought it to me. 

Who am I kidding? I didn't want anything to do with it.  The Tollan might seem to be arrogant and unyielding on this point, but they have their reasons and for my money, they're damned good ones. They've learned from hard experience.  Derived a bitter object lesson from an error in judgment which destroyed two worlds we 'primitives' don't seem to have quite gotten yet from similar tragic occurrences on our own planet.  We certainly can't claim our terrestrial track record to be any better when it comes to reviewing the results of our past attempts to 'help' those 'less fortunates' who were doing just fine without our version of 'civilization'. 

Since becoming involved with the Stargate program I've seen no great indication our ventures into the universe have brought with them any significant advancement of our species toward a more enlightened and less self-involved and contentious state. The truth may hurt, but it doesn't make it any less true.  We're on our way, but we've got a long way to go yet.  I've got no desire to see the Earth go up in flames as a result of the misuse of something given to us in a well-meant attempt to help us prevent that very thing from occurring.  Neither do the Tollan.  So I told Jack he could tell the Joint Chiefs to stuff it.  They could find another messenger boy to do their dirty work.  I wasn't having any part of it. 

So, why am I here in this monkey suit preparing to do something I swore up and down I'd never do?  Damned if I know, I'm still trying to figure out how Jack talked me into this. 

That's not true.  I know exactly why I'm here. 

It wasn't his argument.  Which was well organized, logical and concise, consequently surprising the hell out of me.  He'd come well prepared for my objections, moral and otherwise. But that wasn't what did it. 

It wasn't his appeal to my patriotism or concern for the welfare of Earth that won me over, nor did it have anything to do with learning about the pressure the Joint Chiefs were experiencing from political corners to once again pull a technological rabbit out of the hat to justify the continued existence of the Stargate program. Meaning the pressure was being put on us - hence me, to try and talk the Tollan out of one of their larger ticket high tech items.  _Let's give 'em one for good ole Earth, Doctor J.  Rah Rah Sis Boom Bah._

As compelling as all of these reasons were, none of them were what eventually made me agree to go along with this.  I'm here for one reason and one reason only. 

Jack asked me to. It's important to him. That's all I need to know. He needed my help so I put aside my reservations and busted my butt trying to come up with some way of getting around what I know will be formidable resistance to the very concept, never mind agreement with our request.  I'm pretty sure I haven't got a prayer, but Jack asked me to try.   So that's why I'm here, fully prepared to argue myself into a stupor even though realistically the chances of being successful are slim to none. 

If it doesn't happen it WON'T be because I didn't try, Jack.  You have my word on it. 

This collar and tie are choking me but I try to put my discomfort and discomfiture aside as I address the sternly smiling woman in front of me. 

Lovely opening exchange of pleasantries.  Might be a bit of a mistake playing my biggest 'don't forget you owe us' ace at the very beginning, but somehow I don't think opening with a joke is appropriate. 

Okay, here we go.  She's rolling up the welcome mat and pulling up the drawbridge the second the word technology is out of my mouth.  Oh dear, this is going bad faster than I thought it would.  Talk fast, Jackson. 

"Okay, I understand that.  However, in our culture laws can be changed when it is deemed that the reasons for those laws are no longer relevant." 

Stupid.  That was stupid. What does the way we conduct our business have to do with the way they run their planet?  I'm going to blow this.  She's telling me their reasons are still relevant and it's going to be hard to refute this point, as I happen to agree with her.  Don't fall to pieces, Daniel.  You've made a bad beginning but if you can just keep her talking, get her to LISTEN to you…… 

Oops. I really didn't want to bring the weapons thing up quite so soon.  The Tollan certainly are a 'cut the small talk and bottom line it for me' people when it comes to negotiating.  An approach Jack certainly can relate to, and seems to be as he abruptly takes over. 

He's not doing any better, but he's kept her talking and given me the time I needed to adjust my approach.  I know how I need to handle this now and am just about to take control of the conversation back when the sentence I am about to utter is blasted out of my head by Jack's next remark. 

"You know what?  Forget it!"  He emphasizes the disdain in his voice with a disgusted wave of his hand and gets to his feet. 

"We knew you wouldn't give us anything!" 

We…..uh…..did?  That's not what you said to me last week.  And every day since then! What happened to  'if anyone can pull this off, it's you, Daniel? We're counting on you, Daniel?  We'll never know unless we try, Daniel?' 

"We're wasting a lot of time here!" 

I can't believe what I'm hearing!  Over a week getting ready for this, assembling my arguments, attending the briefings, psyching myself up.  We haven't even been here five minutes and he's giving up? 

"Jack?" 

This has to be a mistake. He can't honestly mean we - we're just LEAVING…… 

"No, Daniel.  Let's GO!" 

He is serious.  It's over. He's leaving. We're - we're leaving.  Just like that.  He's just pitched a small fit in front the High Chancellor of the Tollan and stomped away in an angry huff I can no more explain or gloss over to the dignitary he's so roundly snubbed and insulted than I can understand it myself.  There's no time to make amends.  Presuming he'd even let me. 

I try to mumble an apology to her, try to say SOMETHING to salvage the situation but his voice rings out angrily even as it is swiftly receding.  "Come on Daniel!  NOW!" 

I feel like an errant four-year-old being called to task by his daddy.  And feel just about as small as I duck my head beneath Trevel's piercing stare and hasten past her, painfully aware my cheeks are burning. 

I have no idea what's going on, Jack, but if this has all been one sick exercise in trying to make Daniel Jackson look like a complete and utter fool it's gone rather well. 

  

* * *

I am now convinced I'm going crazy.  There is no other logical, rational explanation for what I am seeing right now. 

I'm stark, raving mad.  I have to be, because I CANNOT be watching Jack O'Neill, one of the most strongly principled and honourable men I have ever known, clawing the protective panel concealing the Tollan security device off the wall prior to reaching in, grabbing and pocketing said device.   Brushing aside our objections with uncharacteristic, angry callousness.  Showing no concern or remorse about his actions or our reaction to them. 

Shut up, Daniel? 

Jack just told me to shut up.  He's NEVER, ever said that to me before.  The whole time we have known each other, I'm sure there have been many times when he's wanted to, but he's never said those words to me.  

Never. 

Any more than he's ever given me any reason to believe he'd ever be capable of any of the things I've just watched him do. 

One look at Sam and Teal'c tells me the same things are going through their minds.  They can no more believe what's just happened than I can.  We're all of us too stunned to say a word as we bleakly straggle toward the Stargate in the wake of the swiftly striding stranger who seems to have supplanted the identity of Colonel Jack O'Neill. 

There's something very, very wrong, here. Horribly wrong.  Whatever it is, I'm going to get to the bottom of it.  Make no mistake about THAT, Jack! 

  

* * *

"I took it, sir," Jack announces casually, like he's just told Hammond he's going for a stroll around the block. 

Finally!  For a few completely awful seconds it looked as if he wasn't going to own up to it, was going to force one of US to explain what happened on Tollana.  The actual theft was bad enough without compounding the wrong by seeming to be okay with passing the accountability over onto our shoulders.  Fortunately although it looks as if Jack has slipped quite a ways down the slope he hasn't fallen THAT far yet. 

"Took it?"  Hammond looks like we feel.  This isn't happening.  Jack did NOT just say what he did.  This is a joke, right? 

"Yes," Jack reiterates with painful pride. 

Sorry, George.  No joke.   Apparently no remorse, either, if the extremely smug smile accompanying Jack's admission is any indication of the state of his conscience. 

"You STOLE it?"  Hammond looks at Jack with earnest incredulity.  Clearly floundering beneath the enormity of his disbelief.  You think THIS is bad, George, try being there for the actual event. 

"I like to think of it as borrowed," Jack returns nonchalantly.  Yeah, I'm sure you do.  Semantics is our friend?  A euphemism covers a multitude of sins? Oh, apparently he's not finished with his creative suggestions for putting a different spin on the events. 

" Major Carter can figure out how to reproduce it; we'll give it back." 

This is nuts.  Jack did NOT just say that.  I'm hallucinating, been infected by some alien virus again.  I'm seeing things, hearing things, stepped through the looking glass. All of the above.  Any of the above. 

Please. 

He's still looking at us with that SMILE saying as far as he's concerned there's no problem.  He's offered the perfect explanation and solution to all of our silly concerns. He didn't STEAL the device,  he just BORROWED it without their permission.  As long as they get it back, it's not wrong. 

What's the problem? 

He hasn't come right out and SAID this, but it's plain in his expression as he looks expectantly at all of us.  Expecting us to agree.  Not a hint in his aspect or manner to suggest he thinks he should expect anything else. 

Jack's n ot getting we won't sanction either his actions or his attitude because he clearly doesn't feel he's done anything wrong. 

If I previously had ANY doubts there was something seriously strange happening here this last little piece of business has removed every single one of them. 

Whoever this man grinning at General Hammond and all but boasting about his actions on Tollana is - he is NOT Jack O'Neill.  Oh, he is, I'm not suggesting an  'Invasion of the Bodysnatchers' scenario or he's undergone any sort of mind altering procedure.  Nothing like that.  He's Jack O'Neill. 

But he isn't. 

"I can't believe what I'm hearing!" The utter astonishment in Hammond's face emphasizes the utterance.  He's the first one to put into words what all the rest of us are feeling. 

Confused.  Appalled.  Bewildered. 

Betrayed. 

Welcome to the club, George.  You've just become our official spokesman.  No one here wants to fight you for the honour. 

I watch Jack carefully as he maintains his demeanor of unconcerned jocularity.  Gazing benignly at Hammond almost as if he feels the General should praise him for his initiative rather than continuing to harp on a technicality he doesn't feel anyone needs to be bothered with. 

"You and your team stole an alien device from an extremely advanced alien culture."  The general is recovering from the initial shock and shifting gears rapidly into 'extremely displeased with the inappropriate behaviour of a subordinate' mode.  'You HAVE done wrong and you are going to catch hell from it' is plain in his tone. 

"They won't retaliate, if that's what you're worried about," Jack offers, to soothe the worries of his commanding officer.   "Not their way, right, Daniel?" 

He looks to me, flashing me a smile, clearly expecting me to back him up.  Like he's looked to me so many times in the past to talk him out of some fix he's gotten him or us into.  _Help me out, here, Daniel.  You can talk George into just about anything._

Not THIS time, Jack.  Not if you got down on your knees and begged. 

I look away from his entreating eyes, feeling both hurt and dismayed he would do this to me.  Try to trade on our friendship in this shoddy fashion, try to enlist me as an accomplice in justifying his wrongdoings. 

The Jack O'Neill I know wouldn't do this. Couldn't do this.  Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my friend? 

"This command has already been accused of stealing from several other alien cultures, Colonel," the general continues, his tone becoming more and more official and severe.  "Until now, we've denied it. Perhaps that was a bit premature.  Dare I ask, how many other items you've stolen?" 

That's a terrifying thought!  But surely, surely...not... 

"None. This is the first," Jack answers with an ingenuous smile.  Butter could melt in his mouth. 

"Colonel, you don't seem to understand how SERIOUS this matter is.  You and your team have committed a court martial-able offence."  Hammond is becoming more and more exasperated with Jack.   Jack's NOT getting it.  Not getting what he did was wrong, not getting he's in VERY deep shit.  None of us can understand the profundity of Jack's studied and determined ignorance, most especially the man charged with holding him responsible for the consequences of his actions. 

"To be fair, general, I did it.  Carter and Daniel protested.  And Teal'c - well he didn't really SAY anything but I could tell he was opposed to my actions by the way he...cocked his head and sort of raised his eyebrow - " 

This is even more nuts.  Now Jack is trying to make a joke of the whole thing.   Hammond is NOT amused. 

"Enough, Colonel!"  he snaps impatiently.  He's done playing around.  He'll deal with Jack later. Right now there's a much more important matter to be addressed and attended to. 

"Doctor Jackson," Hammond begins, turning his attention to the rest of us,  "Major Carter and Teal'c, you will return this device IMMEDIATELY to the Tollan and hopefully smooth over what must be some very ruffled feathers." 

'Yes sir," Sam speaks for all of us as she responds to the order in a barely audible voice. 

"Why?"  Jack's snarls suddenly, bitterly, the resentment and rancor in his voice a startling contrast to his formerly festive mood. 

"Our core mission is to go through that gate and find technologies we can use to defend against Goa'uld incursions," he snarls at Hammond.   "Am I right?" 

He's furious, frighteningly indignant, 'man with a cause' fervor and fire blazing in his eyes.  Just as vehement and outspoken as he has been every other time I've seen him fighting for something he really believes in. 

The sight terrifies me more than I can say. 

"You are bordering on insubordination!" Hammond yells right back at him.   "We do NOT steal from 'Friendlies.' 

Not until today, that is. 

Jack's not finished and he's not taking the hint, either. 

"Well with NO due respect, General, that's just plain STUPID!" 

"Colonel!"  Hammond shouts at him warningly, stunned by sheer effrontery of his last statement.  Not to mention the blatant disrespect for him in the utterance. 

Jack's NEVER spoken to him this way.  He's really racking up a lot of 'firsts' today. 

And it seems he's still shooting for a new personal record. He keeps right on going with his hateful harangue, hollering almost incoherently over several of Hammond's attempts to silence him. 

"And since the Pentagon won't approve our backup program we have no choice - " 

"Colonel \- do NOT go there!" 

"We have NO CHOICE but to take whatever steps we need to GET what we need!" 

Carter and Teal'c are horrified by the torrent of ugly, bitter words pouring out of our friend.  He's completely unrecognizable in his rage, his furious face as twisted and odious as the alien filth he is spewing. 

Hammond is giving Jack back as good as he is getting. 

"As long as I am in command of the SGC we will hold ourselves to the HIGHEST ethical standard…" 

Jack chews up the rest of the general's sentence and spits his invective straight into George's face. 

"And when the Goa'uld WIPE US OUT because we have NOTHING with which to DEFEND ourselves I'm sure we'll all feet GREAT about ourselves and our 'high moral standards'!" 

He says the last three words as if doing so will subsequently require him to wash his mouth out with soap. 

This is finally too much.  Even from Jack. 

"Colonel O'Neill!"  Hammond thunders with the clout of the stars on his collar duly emphasizing the 'official' force of his righteous indignation.   "You are OUT of line, now STAND DOWN!" 

This is NOT a request, Jack.  Or a suggestion.  One more word out of you and you might find your plans for the next few years being made for you. 

Jack glares at Hammond as if he's considering mouthing off again, but Hammond isn't kidding and finally, thankfully, Jack seems to be clueing into SOMETHING. 

He doesn't say a word.  About time he shut up.  He doesn't need to dig the hole he's in any deeper.  He won't be seeing the light of day for years as it is.  If the look on Hammond's face is anything to go by, Jack is through. 

"Colonel O'Neill, I am hereby relieving you of your command. You are to report to the infirmary and stay there until I send for you." 

Oh god.  There it is.  Hammond's said the words.  Looking like the Right Hand of God as he passes judgment on the unworthy who's left him no choice. 

"No holding cell, SIR?"  Jack sneers in response.  

Jack!  God!  Did you leave your brains as well as your conscience back on Tollana? 

"That could very well be your next stop if you say another word, Colonel!" 

He means it, he means it, shut up Jack!  Don't say another word. Enough, already! 

Jack glares at him, still obviously furious, but mercifully, he stays silent. 

The general rises. He's calmer, his tone warmer as he addresses Jack once more.  Still the commander in chief, but one trying to be a friend. 

"Now, get down to the infirmary and submit yourself to a complete examination.  Teal'c, escort him. " 

Jack pushes himself to his feet, his face dark and foreign with simmering rage and barely suppressed attitude. He doesn't even flinch as he hears Hammond tell Teal'c he is no longer under Jack's command   - the final insult to his former authority.  He snorts and turns away from us without a word, 

I'm struggling to keep my own reactions under control as I watch him stalk arrogantly from the briefing room, Teal'c in tow.  Without a backward glance or any sign he's at all sorry for anything he's said or done. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

I simply cannot accept what I have seen.  I know I've seen it, but I can't accept it.  Won't accept it. The Jack O'Neill I have been to hell and back with more than once over the course of the last three years simply is not capable of being the man I have just watched him be.  I'd stake my life on this.  Have - have staked my life on it.  More than once. 

Yet - there it is.  This is NOT Jack, and yet he is.  Or rather, SEEMS to be.  Seems to be. Seeming is not the same as being. Doesn't make it so. There has to be a REASON for what seems to be, but can't possibly be. 

I'm realizing I'm not making a whole lot of sense when any further opportunity I might have had to start making some has to wait.  The warning klaxon penetrating the chaos in my head tells me the Stargate is activating. 

Shit.  Sorry, Jack, You're going to have to wait.  I don't know what this is all about, but believe me, I'm going to find out.  Just as soon as I can.  That's a promise. 

But unfortunately, right now I'm going to have to put this puzzle on the back burner.  Leave it simmer for later.  We've got a more immediate problem to deal with.  The Tollan are coming to call and I'm guessing they're pissed. 

  

* * *

Now I know how Judas felt. 

I've just laid my best friend on the sacrificial altar of the Tollan's demand for explanations and satisfaction.  Hung him out to dry. Gave him up.  Spilled the beans.  Left him holding the bag. 

Turned him in. 

Doesn't matter it was the right thing to do.  Or that he more than has it coming.  Doesn't matter he deserves it, or that he's guilty.  Or has no one to blame but himself.   It STILL feels like I'm betraying him.  Selling him out for the sake of the restoring amity between Earth and Tollana. 

My equivalent of thirty pieces of silver. 

I have an anxious moment as Trevel considers what I have just told her.  Hammond is silent, his usually warm face grim, humourless and dangerously serious as he spares me a tight nod both acknowledging what I have done and thanking me for it.  He knows what coming clean is costing me.  Costing both of us, for that matter.  But we've got no choice.  It has to be done.  Some things are more important the mere personal considerations.  This is one of them. 

Damn it, Jack!  How could you do this?  How could you do this to yourself?  How could you do this to your friends? 

Not right, this isn't right.  Not. Not not not right. Not happening, it's not happening. 

The High Chancellor is dissecting me with her cold, glittering eyes.  Raking them over me with merciless precision as she scans every particle of me, sparing me nothing in her visual evaluation, comparing what she sees with what she has just been told. 

"I have every confidence in the accuracy of Doctor Jackson's report," Hammond gently ventures in a deeply conciliatory tone.  "If, however, his account is not satisfactory, you are welcome to question the other members of SG-1 for corroboration."  He makes an open-handed gesture toward her, his tone as accommodating and soothingly persuasive as he can make it. 

 "Your Eminence, I cannot emphasize enough how deeply distressed we are by this incident. Nor can I sufficiently stress how much we regret its occurrence.  Colonel O'Neill's actions in no way reflect the policy of this command, or are representative of the regard and respect with which we hold your people and your customs.  We wish you would give us the opportunity to demonstrate our sincerity.  What do you need from us, Your Eminence? What can we do to regain your trust?" 

Her dark, formidable stare shifts over to the general and for one heart-stopping second I'm afraid she's going to demand we turn Jack over to her for punishment.  She'd certainly be within her rights to do so, and after what Hammond's just told her he could hardly refuse her if this is what she does, in fact...want. 

He knows it as well as I do.  What's more, if handing over Jack is what it's going to take, he's not even going to blink while doing it. 

I'm holding my breath waiting for the next words out of her mouth feeling suddenly, strangely, as if my life is literally hanging in the balance. 

Not….not sure why….. 

"You are holding Colonel O'Neill accountable for his actions and dealing with him appropriately?"  She asks Hammond coolly. 

"We are, Your Eminence." 

"Very well."  The vastly dark and assessing eyes swing back to me.  "We are satisfied with Doctor Jackson's word the colonel alone is accountable in this incident, and that he was acting entirely of his own volition.  As we are not in the habit of interfering with the way other worlds conduct their own internal affairs," she pauses, and for a brief second the irony fleeting in her gaze does not escape me, "we are content to leave the matter of the disciplining of Colonel O'Neill to your discretion.  The return of our property and your apology will be sufficient reparation." 

She nods formally to me as she begins to rise.  "You have my thanks, Doctor Jackson, for your complete cooperation in the face of what must have been for you a personally trying experience.  You are to be commended for your integrity." 

I really could have done without that last bit.  I'm feeling a lot of things right now, but full of integrity definitely isn't one of them. 

Hammond is shaking her hand, making with the last minute pleasantries and I'm contenting myself with standing here trying to become invisible.  Or absent, as soon as possible.  I've done my bit, did what I was supposed to do, everything's okey dokey now.  Tollan are happy. George is happy. 

Well, Daniel isn't happy. Daniel wants to go. Daniel has some thinking to do and can't to it standing here.  Done here, done now.  Can I leave? 

Not done?  I have to escort Her Eminence and Company to the gate?  Why can't someone else...  Okay.  All right.  Fine.  The things I do for the SGC.  You'd think, for once, someone else could do this. 

Why does it always have to be me? Daniel Jackson, poster boy for 'Diplomacy Monthly.' 

 Remind me to cancel my subscription. 

I'm t rying not to slip into sulking as I open the door to the general's office and wave Trevel and her travelling companion out.  I instantly want to run back inside and close and bolt the door as a familiar voice rings out. 

In a completely unfamiliar tone of voice which is becoming distressingly MORE than familiar…….. 

"Well, look who's here!  Come to retrieve your vastly superior STUFF?"  Jack's sneer is so tangible you could spread it on toast. 

I know he's not done and there's no way to avoid having to run the women through his gauntlet of contempt.  I try to rush them past him as quickly as possible so the whole thing isn't quite as horrible as he's evidently going for. 

I can't look at him as I pass him, but I can feel his dark eyes boring into me as we sweep by. 

"It'd be a lot more superior if it wasn't so easy to STEAL!" 

God, Jack, what's WRONG with you? 

  

* * *

The event horizon shimmers placidly behind the High Chancellor as she stands beside me at the base of the ramp. 

"This unfortunate incident almost made me forget I wished to tell you how much I regret having to disappoint you in the original reason for your visit." 

"Your Eminence?" I'm confused, now, both by what she's saying and the sudden switch in her aspect. Her tone is warmer, fonder, and I'm quite astonished when she puts a hand on my arm before continuing. 

"I wish you to understand my refusal to grant your request was motivated solely by law, and was no reflection upon my personal regard for you as an individual." 

God! The negotiations!  I'd completely forgotten about them.  I wish she hadn't reminded me.  If not for that stupid, misguided attempt I knew had no chance of succeeding we wouldn't even have been on Tollana in the first place!  If not for that exercise in futility none of this would have happened. 

None of this would have happened...wait a minute... 

I'm blinking at her in utter confusion.  She's still talking but my brain is otherwise engaged trying to latch onto what it KNOWS is something important. Significant. 

It's taking every scrap of self-control I have to stop myself from pushing her up the ramp and shoving her into the event horizon.  Nothing personal, I just have to get her to shut up.  To let me alone to track this mental thread before I lose it completely. 

"I have a great deal of respect for you, Doctor Jackson.  I am confident that although you were acting on the behest of your superiors, you do understand why what you were asking of us was impossible." 

"Yes, Your Eminence," Still not entirely sure what she's saying to me, but when in doubt, smile and nod. 

She takes my face in her hands and looks intently at me. An answering smile so warm her eyes glow flows up to meet me.  I'm pierced by its intensity, and the fervour of her words. 

"You should feel optimistic for the future of your race.  That it boasts such representatives….." 

Her eyes flicker briefly, darting up toward the glass windows of the briefing room, then quickly back to me once more. 

"……..speaks very highly for what it has the potential to become.  We are encouraged by what we have seen.  Hold fast to what you are, and know." 

She releases me, bows, and then strides up the ramp, followed by her silent escort.  Just before she reaches the rippling surface she turns and looks back at me once more. 

Now, she seems sad. I am WAY past able to keep up with any of this. 

"I cannot tell you how deeply sorry I am for what has happened. You came to us with only the best of intentions, and now through no fault of your own you must bear the consequences of being involved in circumstances you have done nothing to create, but will nevertheless bring you deep, personal suffering you do not deserve.  My apologies for what must be." 

 She smiles sorrowfully at me and turns away. I can only stand there and gape after her as I watch her being absorbed by the cool blue pool. 

I know what I just heard her say, but there was something else.  Some other message embedded in the words now ringing in my head.  She was trying to tell me something. 

What?  What was she saying?  Hold fast to what I know?  What?  What do I know? 

More than I realize? 

I'm still frozen to the spot trying to get what just happened when the gate shuts down, leaving the room darker and somehow smaller in the absence of its light. 

  

* * *

Jack's gone. 

From the team, from the SGC, from the Air Force, from the base. 

From my life? 

Nope.  Can't do this, can't - can't go there.  Isn't happening. This is NOT happening. 

Keep saying it, Jackson.  Keep saying it; maybe you'll actually believe it. 

Jack's...gone. 

Those two simple words have punched a hole into the centre of my existence big enough to drive a Stargate through.  I'm a whole bunch of things right now.  Shocked, stunned, confused, angry, bewildered, HURT, but what I am, most of all, is damned determined I'm going to find out WHY. 

Oh yeah.  Count on it. 

It's Friday night. I'm off duty.  I don't have to show my face around here for the next two days.  Guess... I guess I should go home.  Might as well.  Nothing for me here, now. 

Friday night.  It's Friday night.  Jack and I, we usually - but we didn't, not for tonight.  Not any formal plans, anyway.  W e weren't sure how long we were going to be off-world, whether the business on Tollana would wrap up soon enough for us to get back in time to do the usual Friday night pizza, beer and fight over what we weren't or were going to watch on television, thing. 

Somehow, even though it turns out we're back in plenty of time, I'm thinking I still have no plans for the evening. 

Sam's been and gone. She came primarily to pass on Jack had passed all Janet's tests with flying colours.  Whatever's up with him, it hasn't got a physiological cause.  At least not one showing up in any tests known to medical science. 

Which was as much as I was expecting.  I'm not sure how or why I know this, but Jack's not sick.  He's also not crazy, no matter how things look. 

Sam apparently had a bit of a run-in with him just before his attempt to make a lasting impression on the High Chancellor.  Sam didn't want to let on, but it upset her.  I wasn't much help.  She wanted me to be able to tell her I knew what was happening, and I couldn't. 

Not yet, anyway. 

Teal'c stopped by to tell me Jack had left the base.  He'd accepted the general's 'offer' of early retirement, had packed up his goodies and gone.  Just - just like that. No words.  No explanations, no good-byes. 

Just -  gone. 

i g uess I'll be going too. 

  

* * *

Sam and Teal'c expect me to handle it. Find out what's going on.  Fix it, even.  I wish I could say I felt as confident about my abilities as they are. 

I w ish to hell I'd never even heard of Tollana.  Or their stinking ion canons. 

I glance at the machine on my way to the kitchen.  No blinking lights.  No messages.  It's Friday night.  I wonder what Jack is doing right now.  What is he thinking?  How is he taking all of this?  It's my turn to pick the pizza place.  Damn, I was looking forward to that. I bet he's gone ahead and ordered from Gonzo's again. He knows I hate that place. The crust is way too greasy.  He does it just to annoy me. Also knows it's my turn, the selfish bastard.  Selfish, self-absorbed, inconsiderate...bastard.  God, I hope he's okay.  Maybe...maybe I should... 

No.  Coffee.  I need coffee. That's what I need.  I need...I - I need.... 

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I have to sit down because all of a sudden I'm having trouble breathing. It feels like there are huge steel bands constricting my chest and if I try walking I'm not going to make it because I suddenly can't see. Everything's blurry. 

I just need to sit for a minute.  Just a minute.  Take deep breaths and this shaking will go away.  Rub my eyes for a minute or two and they'll be fine. I'm okay. I'll be fine.  I'm not going to fall to pieces, here. There's a reason why all of this is happening.  A logical explanation for everything.  There is.  There has to be.  I just need to keep my head, and use this preponderance of grey matter I've been given to work all of this out. 

Think, Daniel.  Think.  Jack says you're always doing it too much and now when he most needs you to, you're choking. 

Come on sissy boy, stop snivelling and THINK! 

Step one \- define the problem.  Jack.  Not being Jack. So not being Jack it's a wonder the world isn't spinning madly on its axis.  As out of control as my personal universe has suddenly become. 

Focus, Daniel.  Stay with it.  No digressing off into irrelevant asides.  Not now. 

What exactly has he done?  Stolen technology from the Tollan. Did the deed, admitted it, proud of it, seemingly prepared to do it again. He's been dangerously insubordinate to General Hammond.  Belligerent and rude to the High Chancellor and her aide.  Cold and callous to his team mates.  Gone and left us.  Turned his back on the Stargate program, his entire life, his friends. 

Quite a day's work, even for Jack. 

What do I know?  I know Jack O'Neill.  Jack O'Neill is not a thief.  He's not a liar.  While at times the power of his convictions has taken him close to the line, he is not deliberately or carelessly inconsiderate of his duty, his colleagues or the people he answers to.  Most particularly the man we all answer to at the SGC.  Jack is not a rude or thoughtless man, nor is he needlessly cruel and provocative to those who are different from him, whether he agrees with them or not. 

It's true he may ACT like a jerk at times, but that doesn't MAKE him one.  Any more than acting like a thief... 

Jack O'Neill is a man of honour.  At least, until today.   So it would appear.  But appearances can be deceiving.  And in this case, especially, they have to be.  Because Jack O'Neill is no more the man he is trying to appear to be than he is capable of….oh god, I don't know, stealing a blind man's cane. Or a lollipop from a kid.  Pulling the wings off flies. 

Shit, I'm doing it again.  Cut it out, Daniel.   Focus. 

Jack isn't what he did and said today. No matter what he's said since to the contrary. Therefore, there is another reason for his behaviour.  SOMETHING is MAKING him behave the way he did today. 

Something.  Or...someone. 

This is the only possible explanation for what has happened today.  The only one there is.  The only one I will accept. 

Let's start with door number one.  Something.  Some sort of influence affecting his behaviour. 

Physical?  We've pretty much ruled that one out. Jack's been gone over within an inch of his life and physically, he's perfectly fine.  So says Janet.  So, that one's out. 

Psychological? Thinking about this one.  He wasn’t too happy about having to do it, but he went through quite a battery of psychological tests when we got him back from Eudora.  He came through those fine as well.  There didn't seem to be any time bombs lurking in his psyche.  Nothing hiding down there waiting to bite him in the ass when he wasn't looking.  Certainly nothing that would explain his current behaviour. 

In short, he was as well adjusted as one could reasonably expect a former Special Ops Air Force Colonel who's blown up 'gods' with nuclear weapons, goes across the galaxy to go to work, who's been shot up, Goa'ulded, killed for the cause, nearly frozen to death, had to watch his son die, watched his best friend turn into monster and die, lost his wife, briefly almost lost his mind courtesy of the Ancients and been to hell and back - literally...to be. 

Yeah, there are dark places inside him.   He's not the only one. But he knows what he is, he knows what he's done.  He's never shied away from facing any of it, not as long as I have known him.  And I've known him for most of it. 

I feel pretty confident in ruling out the psychological factor as well.  Not because of the opinion of the dedicated mental health professionals who checked him over and pronounced him fit to go out and start saving the universe again.  I'm saying I know Jack's mentally sound because I know something they don't. 

I know about Eudora.  I know what he never told them.  I know what really happened and how he really feels about it. 

Three days after he got back he called me in the evening.  Barely coherent, but in an evidently drunkenly companionable mood. He anted some company, could I come over and while I was at it, could I bring some more beer. 

The very fact he was drunk was enough to tell me I needed to go over there. Sans the beer.  Contrary to popular belief, Jack doesn't drink a lot.  Certainly rarely ever to excess.   Hardly ever to the degree he'd been imbibing that night. 

It's the control thing.  Jack's got a lot of stuff on his plate.  An awful lot of stuff he doesn't like coming out and saying 'hi' when he's not prepared for company.  So he very rarely ever gives it a chance to take him by surprise. 

Drinking doesn't make him forget - it makes him remember. 

He opened the door almost as soon as I hit the buzzer and stood there wavering in the entranceway, his clothes disheveled, hair not much better, beer bottle in his hand, a gooney, shit-eating grin spreading even further across his slightly flushed face as he looked me up and down and yelled, "DANNY!  My FRIEND, DANNY!" 

Next thing I knew I was hauled into the house and enveloped in one of Jack O'Neill's patented full body hug specials.  If you've never tried it, I thoroughly recommend it. 

I was pressed up so tightly to him I could barely breathe.  A cold beer bottle chilling the small of my back as Jack's free hand cupped the back of my head and cradled it in tight against the side of his.  Thinking about it now, it's almost like being back there again.  Remembering the familiar, comforting mixture of the smell of his aftershave lightly accented with shampoo and a heavy chaser of beer.  Feeling the way his stubble rasped across my face as he rubbed his cheek against mine.  Holding me and hugging me longer than he'd ever done before.  Tighter, closer, like he wasn't ever going to let go. 

"My friend, Danny, " he chuckled and rumbled in my ear before finally pulling back until he could look me in the face, but still not releasing me from his embrace.  "Where ya been, Danny?  Missed you. Missed you lots. Lots and lots." 

Right about then I was trying to figure out how to get him to let go of me so I could get him to a chair before he fell down.  He was loaded.  Drunker than I had ever seen him.  That's the only explanation I have for what he did next. 

He cupped my cheek in his palm, burped loudly in my face and beamed proudly at his accomplishment. "My friend!" he announced extravagantly.  'My Danny." 

After which he sighed happily, applied his lips to my other cheek and planted an enthusiastic and rather noisy kiss on it. Then he patted my face, peered at me with bleary expectation and promptly collapsed. 

He came to again as I was laying him out on the sofa.  I was leaning over him, just about to straighten up when his eyes opened, his hands clutched at my jacket and he pulled me down on top of him.  Once again I found myself unable to move as his arms wrapped around me and crushed me implacably to him. 

"Danny, don't go!" His voice was raw and laced with fear.  The pain in it alarmed me.  "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have done it.  It wasn't right.  Wasn't fair.  She's a good woman, but she wanted...  I couldn't give her what she deserved.  I shouldn't have, but I thought I'd never see you again. You won't go, will you Danny?  You won't leave me?" 

He wasn't making any sense but he was clearly upset about something.  I couldn't imagine why he thought I'd leave when I'd only just gotten there.  He couldn't think I was upset about the condition he was in.  I've seen Jack drunk before. He's seen me drunk before.  We've seen each other in far worse shape for various reasons than he was at that moment. 

He in particular can claim to have the advantage of me when it comes to not being exactly at my best due to mind altering substances. 

Or sarcophagi. 

I tried to reassure him and also tried to get him to let go of me, but he wouldn't.  Not that it bothered me to be close to him.  Somehow, in that moment I was drawing as much comfort from his complete proximity as he seemed to be deriving from mine. Probably for the same reason. 

He wasn't the only one who thought he'd never see his friend again.  Never get to be with him again.  This way, or any other way. 

Three months can be an eternity when you don't know for sure if someone you care about is alive or dead.  It's true the Tok'ra ship would have gotten to Eudora in a year.  But until we did, we didn't know for sure Jack had made it to the caves and had survived the meteor shower.  We didn't know a damned thing until Teal'c broke through. 

If Jack needed me to be there with him; I was happy to be.  So I lay there quietly in Jack's arms and let him talk.  He needed to do that, as well. 

I know all about Eudora.  Jack told me everything.  Maybe it was the beer and maybe it wasn't, but he opened up and told me everything weighing on him.  He talked until he fell asleep, still not letting go of me, and after a while I fell asleep as well.  Several hours later I was awakened by his dulcet tones in my ear. Jack complaining rather loudly and completely unfairly I should learn to hold my liquor better or go on a diet before I passed out on him again. We traded a few more insults, got up, teased the shit out of each other and talked some more. 

This time, without the beer. 

By the time I left the next evening Jack was okay with Eudora.  Okay with a lot of things as well, most especially Jack O'Neill. 

Three days later he came to me needing this favour from a friend.  And, here we are. 

No, Jack's not suffering from stress, nor is he mentally unhinged.  Whatever's making him act this way, it isn't a some…..thing. 

I'm tired, my head is splitting and I need to lie down.  I can't do this anymore right now. I don't want to remember.  I need to rest, just for a little while.  Things will be clearer if I rest. 

Sleep well, Jack. 

  

* * *

_ We knew you weren't going to give us anything. _

_ We're wasting a lot of time, here. _

_ Shut up, Daniel! _

_ Offered us a nice fruit basket, though. _

_ I took it, sir. _

_ This command has already been accused of stealing from several other alien cultures, colonel. _

_ Hold fast to what you are, and know. _

_ I took it, sir. _

_ This command has already been accused of stealing…… _

_ Accused of stealing... _

_ I took it, sir... _

_ I am confident that although you were acting on the behest of your superiors, you do understand why what you were asking of us was impossible." _

Of course it was impossible.  It always WAS impossible.  There was no way I could have succeeded.  I wasn't supposed to. 

Wasn't supposed to. 

I've been an idiot. 

I'm wide-awake, mind racing, heart pounding with excitement.  So simple.  It's just so simple.  The trip to Tollana was for one purpose and one purpose only. To provide Jack with the opportunity to steal the device. 

Wasn't about trying to get ion canons for Earth.  Wasn't even about Jack O'Neill trying to make Daniel Jackson look like a horse's ass.  It was about trying to make Jack O'Neill look like a thief. 

Mission accomplished.  Jack's done the deed, and been cast aside, branded a thief, a pariah, disgraced, dishonoured.  And I helped.  Set the stage for him, gave him his shot and then gave him to the Tollan. 

And Jack's the one who asked me to get involved in the first place.  Asked me to do a favour for a friend. 

Set up.  The whole thing was a set up.  Jack set me up. Set me up to take him out.  Why? 

WHY! 

I'm off the couch, pacing, so furious I don't know whether to laugh or cry.   Right now I hate the fact Jack O'Neill knows me better than any person alive.  Bastard!   You low-down, scheming, manipulative BASTARD! USED me!  My so-called best friend USED me to help him look like a thieving piece of trash.  Played me like a violin. Set me up, cut me off at the knees and then walked out on me. 

If he was here right now I'd smash his double-dealing face in! 

Calm down, Daniel, calm down, it's not like that and you know it.  This is still Jack we're talking about.  Whatever he did, he had a good reason.   That's what I have to do, focus not on WHAT he did, but WHY he did it. 

Okay, I'm hurt he didn't trust me enough to let me in on it.  Maybe he thought I wouldn't be convincing enough to the Tollan if I knew the whole thing was a lie.  I'm not known for being very good in the lying department.    That's probably why he figured he couldn't say.  Whatever he's involved in, it HAS to be important. Had to be absolutely sure it looked right. Couldn't take the chance the Tollan wouldn't buy it.  The Tollan, and whomever else he's trying to convince with his macho asshole, 'I'm just in it for the big guns' act. 

Which brings us right back to the 'why' - doesn't it? 

It all seems to be coming back to technology.  What I was supposed to try and get from the Tollan, what Jack stole, what he sat there and screamed we should be trying to get for Earth no matter how we had to get it. 

Something ELSE was mentioned in that briefing.  Something the general said.  Had it, had it just a minute ago. 

Stealing.  The fact the SGC has been accused of stealing.  Oh yeah, remember how good THAT felt during the business with the Touchstone. To be branded thieves by people who had trusted us. Being accused of stealing didn't go over any better with Jack than it did with the rest of us.  We got to the bottom of it, got the Touchstone back for the Medronans, and cleared ourselves and the SGC.  The real thieves were a rogue group using the second Stargate.  No one directly involved with the SGC. 

A rogue group that got away.  Escaped through the gate, right under our noses. That's still out there, somewhere. 

I'm starting to feel a lot better about this and am on my way to turning the coffee maker on to brew up a little aid to further contemplation when the phone rings. 

  

* * *

I'm feeling a little guilty I didn't let on to General Hammond I've figured out what's going on.  He seemed to be so concerned about how I was taking all of this, and I'd like to set his mind at ease about me, but I've put a few other things together during the ride over to Jack's place making me glad I held back, now. 

Who to trust.  Jack didn't just cut me out of the loop, he's left Sam and Teal'c and the general in the dark about what's really going on as well.  So there may be more to this than I realize.  Having to do with what's happening at home as much as what's going on out there on the other side of the gate. 

Not that I think the general or my friends are involved in anything shady. Not at all. They'd no more be capable of dishonest dealings than, well - Jack!  But until I get more of the picture from Jack, I'm not going to unintentionally blow his cover by mouthing off to the wrong people.   Or anyone, for that matter. 

Hammond picked an interesting time to call, though. He sounded a little surprised I didn't know anything more about how Jack was doing. Funny, never realized it before, but when it comes to Jack, everyone assumes I'm the resident authority.   The one to come to if they need up to date information.  Or explanations.  I guess he just took it for granted I would have already called or dropped by. 

I didn't need the excuse of promising to furnish him with an 'update' to be making this trip today.  I'd already been intending to go over to speak to Jack.  Now that I've put it together.  We'll be able to sit and talk in private, and once he knows I know, I'm sure he'll come clean and tell me the rest. 

So I'll be able to get the full story and allay as much of the general's concern as the situation will allow me.  Two birds, so to speak. 

Can't believe how much better I feel now I KNOW why Jack has been acting the way he has. 

  

* * *

Hmmm.   Not exactly the first ring this time.  Far from it. Strange. I've stood at this door hundreds of times, waiting to be allowed admittance, and this is the first time I find myself suddenly feeling as if I'm……not welcome. 

Can't say I'm thrilled with the sensation.  Nor am I exactly sure where it's coming from.  No reason for it, it'll be fine, I know what's going on, I'll tell Jack I know, we'll get it all cleared up.  I know it'll be okay, but all of a sudden I've got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and I'm just about to lose my nerve and turn tail and run when the door finally opens. 

My friend is there in the doorway, beer bottle in hand, not a shit-eating grin in sight and while he may have been drinking, he's certainly not been overdoing it. 

Jack O'Neill is standing there, glaring at me, not only in total control but so deeply hidden behind his stone-cold face I almost don't recognize him. 

"What do you want?" he mutters at me. 

"I'm not really sure, to tell you the truth." 

And it is the truth.  I'm totally stunned by this less than warm reception. While I wasn't exactly expecting a brass band, surely after three years and a few billion light years Jack could manage a slightly friendlier greeting than this.  What's with the stonewalled, shut out routine, Jack?  You don't have to play the asshole now, not when it's just the two of us. 

What do I want?  I want to let my friend know he's still got one! 

"Came here to talk, I guess."  Well, I did. 

"So talk." 

Still not moving, still not inviting me in.  Okay, well maybe he figures I'm still buying the act and mad at him.  He doesn't know yet, I haven't told him.  No wonder he's being less than forthcoming.  He's got to think I think he's pond scum. 

But if that really were the case, Jack, I wouldn't be here, would I?  The fact I am should tell you something.  Let down the walls.  I'm your friend, remember?  Said so loud enough, right here, not so long ago.  Let me in. 

He takes a swig from the bottle and glares at me.  Still not moving.  Looks like I have to ask, he's not offering. 

"You got another one of those?" 

"Yeah." 

I see.  You're going all the way with this.  Going to make me beg? 

"Feel like sharing?" 

"The beer?  Sure." 

Finally, he moves away. Lets me walk through the door. I enter and close it behind me as he heads toward the kitchen.  It feels about ten degrees colder in here than it does outside. The air in the house is positively glacial on my skin as I move through it and walk downstairs. Feeling more and more like the unwelcome, unwanted intruder. 

It's a disquieting, unsettling feeling. Disconcerting. When we're back on Earth I probably spend more time in this house than I do in my own place.  Jack finds it hard to relax at my place.  Always afraid he's going to break something. This is practically my second home, and now I feel awkward, out of place, afraid to sit on the furniture, even. 

"So, how do you feel about all this?" I call out to him as I move restlessly about, still uncertain as to what to do with myself.  I can tell you how I feel, Jack. Confused.  I thought I knew what was going on, but now I'm here, nothing feels right.  I was going to come out and tell him everything I'd figured out but now I'm caught in this pocket of awkward and I'm coming up empty.  I'm still hesitating, trying to figure out what to do and say when his next words send me spinning even further into the realm of uncertainty. 

"Yes to the beer.  NO to the feelings," he announces as he joins me and hands me a beer.  I seat myself, twist the cold bottle in my hands and try to get a grip on myself. 

Ah.  Well, if he was trying to tell me the Jack O'Neill emotional shop was closed up for the day he couldn't have been more direct. 

He's seating himself in the armchair across from me.  Just for an instant I'm remembering another time, the first time Jack and I shared a beer in this house.  Seated exactly where we are right now. 

That's not right.  We're in the same places we were that night.  But our positions were reversed.  Oh god, Jack, in more ways than one…… 

"That's \- that's too bad because I really don't like beer."  One of us is going to be honest, here.  Might not be a soul shattering revelation, but at least now he knows I've been humouring him for the last three years. 

"Stop your worrying.  I'm fine."  Obviously my stark admission didn't elicit any reciprocal inclinations to opening up.  Sharing still only extends to the beer, it would seem.  I don't understand why he's being so cold.  Why he's still keeping up the act. It IS an act, isn't it, Jack? 

I'm getting more unsure of myself by the second.  I'm not sure what's going on.  We're alone.  It's me.  Danny.  Why is he still being so….. 

 I can't be wrong about this.  About him?  Can I? All my plans to dazzle him with my brilliance are falling around me.  He's staring at me like I'm some sort of bug under a microscope. 

Or an idealistic idiot taking up his precious time. 

" Really?  That's funny, because I didn't figure you for the early retirement type anymore. There's another reason you're angry, isn't there?" 

I know there is.  I know there's a reason for everything you've done.  Help me out, here, Jack.  Tell me I've got it right.  This is where you put aside the stone face and start being JACK again.  I'll tell you I'm with you, I'll tell you you're not alone with this, I'll tell you I understand - 

"Oh, here we go, Pop Psych 101, right?" he shoots at me in a disgusted, dismissive tone. 

I feel like I'm floundering in an ocean of his disdain. Maybe I have got it wrong, maybe there is something else, some other reason for the way he's been acting. Maybe he ISN'T pretending, he really MEANT those things he said in the briefing.  But \- but why?  How could he have - what would have made him FEEL this way? 

And why didn't I know?  Why didn't I see this coming? 

Grasping at straws now, for some sort of explanation that will make even the SLIGHTEST shred of sense.  Something he mentioned in the briefing. 

"No, when we were in the briefing you said something about the Pentagon not giving us the back-up we requested. What were you talking about?" 

For the first time since I've gotten here something in him appears to soften.  He seems regretful, looks away from me and his voice is low and quiet as he answers me an almost apologetic voice. 

"Hammond and I were planning a secondary SGC base off world.  It was going to serve as a backup in case ours was attacked.  I was going to command." 

What?  Jack?  Planning to leave SG-1 and tie himself to a desk? Not even in SG Command HQ, but in some outpost out in the stars?  JACK?  Now this is just NUTS.  This is his explanation? He's pissed because the Pentagon wouldn't let him set up a place for him to be bored out of his skull? 

Jack? 

"And the Pentagon pulled the plug.  So you're acting out because you're hurt, and you didn't get a command." 

I'm hearing myself saying the words but I'm so not buying what I'm saying.  Or hearing. 

"Give me a break, Daniel," he snaps at me.  "Their denial of the program was just another indication that they're not serious about attaining our goals." 

"Which you think is obtaining new weapons and technology." Pardon me for being dense, here, Jack.  I'm just trying to understand. 

"Protecting ourselves!" 

He's getting angrier, colder, stranger.  And it's scaring me.  Way more than hearing what he was saying yesterday.  That was an act.  At least, I thought it was. 

But we're not in the briefing room now.  Now, it's just the two of us.  There's nothing stopping him from being straight with me.  From telling me the way he really feels. 

So, I guess - he is. 

I've got no choice. I have to know how bad it is.  How far it goes.  I have to understand what's really going on with him so I can help. 

"But isn't our mission also about establishing and maintaining diplomatic relations with other cultures?" 

I thought that was the MAIN point to what we were doing out there.  Making friends, securing allies, expanding our knowledge of the universe, and joining the galactic community.  That's what it's all about, Jack, isn't it?  At least, that's what I thought it was all about.  Thought you saw it the same way too. 

"What's the point if we don't gain anything to help our other interests?" 

Other interests, Jack?  What other interests?  What are you talking about? 

" Well, there's a lot we can learn from people like the Tollan that has nothing to do with technology and weapons." 

How to start behaving like more reasonable beings, for starters. 

"Stuff that interests people like YOU, Daniel, not people like me." He hurls the words at me as he jabs an angry finger in the air.   "I want to see TANGIBLE gains from our efforts, and if people like the Tollan don't want to SHARE, we should just - TAKE." 

His harsh words hang in the air between us, like a noxious cloud polluting the strained silence.  I can't look at him for an instant as the shock of what he has just said to me starts seeping into my consciousness. 

He can't mean this.  He - he can't. Not...Jack. 

"You really believe that." 

I say the words slowly, feel them being pulled out of me.  I don't want to say them but I have to.  I say them so he'll have a chance to deny them.  He HAS to deny them.   Tell me I've misunderstood what I've just heard.  Clarify the whole thing for me. 

Please, Jack. 

"Being sweet and nice isn't going to stop three or four Goa'uld motherships if they decide to come back again.  I'd rather be a thief and alive than honest and dead.  It's a cliché, but there it is." 

No apologies, no regrets, no remorse.  He snarls out the sentences with a kind of ugly pride and defiance. Being sweet and nice - ergo stupid and naïve - not to your liking, Jack?  Like me, you mean, Jack?  Honest and dead?  Me again?  Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'll keep my principles and take my chances. 

There it is?  Indeed. 

"If you really believe that, I guess...I guess I never really knew you at all." 

But - but I did.  I do.  I've heard what you just said and I still can't believe….. 

"Come on.  You're a bright guy.  You had to sense...SOME of this." 

No. No, I never did.  Not once. Not - not this.  I trusted you, Jack, believed in you.  You've always been my hero.  Would rather have died than tell you, but maybe - maybe if I say something now, maybe if I tell you, we can still…. 

Should say something, but I'm too - can't find the words... I can't... 

His voice is soft again, almost gentle as he holds the knife to my chest. 

"Then no.  I guess you couldn't relate to me any more than I could to you." 

I can feel the cold steel of his contempt pressing against my heart. There's still time to save myself.  Deflect the blow.  Walk away before I let him do me in. 

I must be crazy, but even now, I still want to give him the chance to stay his hand.   He has to realize he can't do this to me.  To us. 

We're friends.  If I've ever been sure of anything in this life, I'm sure of this.  Whatever else he's ever been, Jack is my friend.  Stake my life on it.  Have. 

Hundreds of times. 

"So this, ah, this whole friendship thing we've been working on for the last few years - " 

I don't even get a chance to finish the sentence. 

"Apparently not much of a foundation there, huh?" 

At least he has the decency to look away as he drives the knife home. 


	2. Chapter 2

I left.

It was easy, actually. I just got up, and walked away. Remembered my jacket, even. It's brand new, after all. I wasn't up to shopping for another one. Not like I'd ever be seeing it again, if I left it behind.

There's a strange, anti-climactic calm around moments like this. No clashing cymbals or rousing fanfares, no rockets exploding in space. Just cold, quiet emptiness. It's only been a few short minutes since I left him, and the sterile serenity of nothingness still surrounds me. 

Like an old, familiar friend.

I know this place. I've been here many times. Each time I come here it's just that much easier to keep on going even though all this sucking void wants is to hold you fast within it and absorb you into narcoleptic oblivion. It gets just that much easier to walk through a world whirling around you in slow motion with the sound off. To take each step through thickening confusion, still going forward without thought or direction.

Or giving a shit why you're even moving.

I walked out of his house and he didn't stop me. Not that I was expecting him to. I mean, why would he? What did he care if I left? Bring me an ion canon, Daniel, and we'll talk.

I'll see what I can do.

I'm sitting in my car, behind the wheel, staring through the windshield, seeing nothing, and I don't remember how I got here. I remember every distinct, appalling second of getting up, walking away from him, and reaching his door, but nothing of what I did on the other side. Somehow, I got from there to here. I presume I walked. I think it's a fairly safe assumption. I also should be doing something else right now. I'm pretty sure there's more to life than sitting here in my car staring at nothing. Staring at his house.

Reasonably sure, anyway.

I know I can't stay here. But I don't know where to go. Trying to figure that one out is a hideous leap my mind just can't make right now. Too much, too much all at once. One step at a time. Finish leaving, first. Then we'll worry about where we're going.

I'm holding something in my hand. Keys. Keys. I know what these are. I even know what they're for. Okay, this is good. This is progress. Something to focus on.

The key is in the ignition. Motor running. I even have my seatbelt on. Look at me, Jack, I'm a goddamned genius! It's only taken Mister Sweet and Nice three hours to figure out how to turn his car on. Maybe not quite that long, but close enough for the way it feels.

Whoop de doo, I've managed to get it in gear. Someone call the media. Doctor Daniel Jackson discovers the secret to forward motion. For all the good it's going to do him.

'Cause he sure 'n hell can't go back again. And that's all he wants to do right now.

I drive. It's something to do. Nothing I'm seeing going past my mobile glass and steel bubble is making any sense, but it pretty much agrees with what's happening inside it as well, so I guess you could say for once, I'm in harmony with the world. Hey, that's a nice change. Finally, I've found sense in senselessness. Achieved oneness in foolishness. Company in confusion. One of the gang, at last.

What do you know, I'm finally fitting in. I've arrived.

And Jack said I'd never amount to anything. Shows you what he knows.

I have to pull over, because I'm not that far gone I don't know I can't drive while I'm shaking like this. I might not care if I drive off the side of a mountain but I don't want to take the chance of taking anyone with me. They might have someone who cares about them. Someone to go home to.

The pain of the thrust finally hits me, splitting me end to end. I hug myself and hold on tight, to keep the sundered sections from getting away from me. I've got to keep it together, keep myself from falling apart all over the passenger compartment, because there's no one else here to pick up the pieces. No one to reassemble me if I let myself get scattered.

Not any more.

You're on your own, here, Doctor J. Nothing new, you've done it before. You can do it again.

I can do this, I can do this. I'm not going under, here. No how, no way. Not gonna happen I just need something, something to focus on.

You never cease to amaze me with all your talents.

That a fact, Jack? That a lie too, Jack? How many other lies did you tell me, Jack? Was all of it a lie? Everything you ever said to me? Everything you ever were?

How many lies, Jack? Your friend? The only one you trusted? The one who thought he knew you the best? Mister Sweet and Nice? Lies? All lies?

Then, no, I guess you could no more relate to me than I could to you.

My FRIEND, Danny.

Not much of a foundation there.

You won't leave me, will you, Danny?

You're a bright guy. You must have sensed SOME of this.

Where ya been, Danny? I missed you lots. Lots and lots.

What do you want?

I thought I'd never see you again.

No, to the feelings

I gotta get this out, and you're the only one I can trust. Only one I DO trust.

You must have sensed SOME of this.

I can't get his voice out of my head. It's the last thing I want to hear right now, but it won't go away. HE won't go away. Dammit dammit dammit, Jack! When will you ever be satisfied? Destroying everything you are wasn't enough for you? Annihilating everything I believed about you - still not doing it for you? You've achieved your objective. Strike successful, Ground Zero. Completely blasted, here. Even the Goa'uld didn't do as good a job as you've just done. Good job, colonel, sir. Damned fine job. No more worries about objections from honest archaeologists.

Now, at least have the decency to go away and let me die in peace.

No better than a Goa'uld.

But Jack hates the Goa'uld.

I'd rather be a thief and alive than honest and dead.

Hates the Goa'uld. Hates thieves.

You STOLE that knowledge!

The Goa'uld are thieves. They steal everything they possess. Their knowledge, technology, the very bodies they inhabit. Steal them. Thieves. Lousy, stinking thieves. Jack hates thieves. Hates 'em. Hates the Goa'uld.

And now he wants to become a thief in order to defeat them? If you can't beat them, join them? Skaara wouldn't buy that for one second. He's free now, because of Jack. Jack doesn't like thieves. Or liars.

If people like the Tollan don't want to share then we should just take.

That's not what you said to Hammond when he told us we were going to lie to the Salish and cheat them out of their trinium. Pretend to be their friends, wait till they moved on and then take what we wanted while they weren't looking. Against their wishes. Hell with what they wanted. They had it, we needed it. End justifies the means. Whatever it took for the sake of Earth, no matter how rotten, dirty, low or underhanded.

Yeah, I remember, Jack. You were really up for that idea. Eager to go with the program. All the way for Earth's interests.

I wasn't there when Hammond gave you the good news. Mister Sweet and Nice had already been sent out of the room. Get the he pesky conscience out of the way by having him keep the victim conveniently out from underfoot and ignorant as well.

I wasn't there, but I heard plenty about it later. Jack had LOTS to say about how he felt. Lots. He said it to me. Once the smoke had cleared and we'd managed to convince the 'spirits' not to give us the thanks we deserved for what we had been planning to do to the Salish, Jack made sure I got the full story. Loudly. At great length.

The Salish knew a man of honour when they saw one. So did 'Mother Reetu'. She only watched Jack for a couple of weeks and that was enough for her. Enough for her to know he WAS a man of high principles and integrity and she could trust him.

Nor was her faith misplaced, nor her evaluation incorrect.

She'd only known him from afar for a short time. I've known him up close and personal for three years. Longer, if you count from the first time we met.

Teal'c - Teal'c had less time or cause than 'Mother', even. Teal'c turned his staff weapon on his own men, turned his back on everything he knew, abandoned his life, his wife, his son, saved our lives and threw in his lot with us. Made his decision to do all of this in a split second on the strength of a single appeal from one man.

Jack.

We have no choice but to take whatever steps we need to get what we need.

I heard him say that yesterday. Say much more of the same thing today. Say we should take from the Tollan. Like he'd tried to on Tollana.

But, if he really believed that, he's already had a shot at getting technology from the Tollan. A way better shot then we had yesterday.

Maybourne and the NID wanted to take Omac and his people into 'protective custody'. God, don't you just love euphemisms? 'Protect' them. For the rest of their lives. Hold them against their will and suck them dry of everything they knew.

Once again, all for the good of Earth. Doesn't matter if it stinks to high heaven. This is war. Desperate times call for desperate measures?

And when the Goa'uld wipe us out because we have nothing with which to defend ourselves, I'm sure we'll all feel GREAT about ourselves and our high moral standards.

i heard Jack say that yesterday as well. Bullshit! It's total, utter bullshit! We play by those rules, we're no BETTER than the Goa'uld. Jack knew that when he refused to let Maybourne take the Tollan. Jack hates Maybourne and the NID and everything they stand for. He hates all of it with a passion. If I hadn't been able do the actual 'dirty work' for him, he would have thrown his career away, gone to jail, even, to keep Maybourne from getting his hands on the Tollan.

He fought like a bastard to keep our friend Teal'c out of his hands when he was infected with that insect retrovirus. Jack hates Maybourne's guts.

This is the same man who now is expecting me to believe he's decided to play by the same rules as Maybourne, the Goa'uld and everything he holds in the utmost contempt. And always has.

Always has. ALWAYS has.

I'm - I'm missing something. What did Jack say to me back there?

You're a bright guy, surely you must have sensed some of this.

There was never anything to sense. Never. Never, ever the slightest indication he ever felt this way. Nothing in any of his previous words or actions even hinting he believed any of this with the fervour he was professing today.

Nothing.

But he sure was going out of his way to sell it. To make me believe it. To make ME believe it. Me?

Why? What possible reason could he have had for needing ME to believe he was indeed this scummy, ruthless thief? In order to break my oh so sweet and nice heart?

What for? Why? Why did he need to convince ME he was a completely different man from the one I thought I knew? Why go to such lengths? If he'd had enough of hanging around with Drippy the Geek, why not just say so - just say, we're no longer friends, I don't want to see you anymore? That would have been enough. I don't need to be hit on the head with an ion cannon. Why take it further, claim we never WERE? Why negate everything so unequivocally? 

Why?

If all he was interested in was telling me to fuck off and die and get out of his life, why not do it at the door? Dust me off cleanly and send me packing? Easiest thing in the world. Why even let me in?

Why go through that whole conversation? Why say all those things if it was just me he was trying to convince?

'Cause it wasn't just me, was it? That conversation wasn't for my benefit at all. Someone else needed to hear it, needed to be convinced he'd truly turned to the dark side. What better way to demonstrate his sincerity than by putting the boots to Mister Sweet and Nice?

You lousy, stinking son of a bitch, you did it to me again, you rat bastard!

How long have I been gone? I glance at my watch, which tells me nothing because I haven't got a clue what time it was when I left. I've got an idea. It's crazy, it's probably out in left field, but if what I'm thinking is right, I should be able to confirm it very soon.

I'm firing up the engine again, turning the car around, and heading back to Jack's place, hoping to see what I need to see.

I approach his street, but don't make the turn. Just keep on going. i don't want to take the chance I'll be recognized if I drive past his house.

There's a black staff car parked in front of the house. Air Force plates. A couple of uniformed types sitting inside. Another man in uniform standing at the door.

Jack's got a visitor. No way I could see who it was, but it definitely wasn't the mailman. Someone with a fair amount of clout from the car, the goons and the stuff decorating the front of his uniform.

Right, right. I was right! I drive away, feeling exhilaration and something else swelling in my chest. Jack's got company. He's switched teams, playing with the big boys now. Out in the cold, all on his own.

I'm not mad at Jack anymore. I'm scared.

 

Home was as good a place to be as any. Quiet. Private. Coffee.

All things I need right now.

So here I am. Sitting drinking my third cup of coffee. Staring at the phone. Needing to talk to someone about everything I know, now, but not knowing who to trust.

I'm in over my head, here. I know it. I'm a linguist cum archaeologist cum peaceful explorer, not James Bond. We're firmly in the realm of the cloak and dagger stuff, and up to this point in my life my curriculum vitae comes up woefully short in the espionage department.

I haven't got a clue what to do now. Or who to trust.

I'm completely out of my element when it comes to trying to figure out the rules of THIS game. They - whoever they are, presumably the 'they' Jack is going undercover to - whatever he'd doing all of this for - anyway, they must have been watching Jack. Saw me arrive. Had the place bugged. Heard every word we said. Never even occurred to me at the time. Why the hell would it have? Having to think this way now is making me sick to my stomach.

My FRIEND is out there, all on his own, putting his life on the line, doing his duty. No doubt in my mind that's exactly what Jack is doing. Everything is making perfect sense, now. Every single thing that's happened has been toward one single end.

Getting the bad guys to accept Jack into their ranks. It's been a seamless chain of events, from start to finish. Pull the job, make the noise, get the boot, sell the act with the assist of an unsuspecting extra, the bad guys take the bait, then off we go.

It all went down like a charm. Thanks to a little help from Mister Sweet and Nice.

God, it must have KILLED Jack to say those things to me! All the more reason for me to be careful. He never would have, never COULD have if what he was doing wasn't DAMNED important. More important than anything.

Saving the world, kind of important.

I wish I could tell him I've never been prouder to be his friend.

But I can't. i can't tell him a damned thing. Can't tell anyone. This whole thing only worked because whoever these scumbags were, they believed what Jack said to me. What he was prepared to do to me is what convinced them. My reaction is what did it.

I act any differently now it's very possible it could place his life at risk.

So I have to go on like I believe Jack is scum. That I bought every word he said, and I'm still buying it. I have to make everyone believe it.

And I have no choice but to let Jack go on thinking I believe it as well.

I'm dreading this, but it's time to make a start. The general is expecting me to call him back, to let him know how Jack is.

For the first time in my life I'd better put honest on the back burner or someone I care about very much could end up dead.

 

 

Another Monday morning.

God, if only it was true. If only this was just another, typical, business as usual Monday morning at the good 'ole SGC. I'm standing here with Sam and Teal'c. Waiting for the general. Waiting to find out what's up next for SG-1. I can almost pretend none of this has happened. It really is a regular Monday morning, and Jack is going to be coming to join us, any second now. Swaggering down that hall, eyes sparkling, grin as defiant as his 'do', making with some wise-ass remark about his watch still being on 'gate' time. Filling the room with his casually charismatic presence, walking up to me, throwing his arms around me in greeting as he constantly does, while he thumps me on the back and teases me with some comment like 'Daniel! I see you managed to find your way to the mountain all by yourself again.'

I know it's not going to happen but that doesn't stop me from...stop me from...

Reality really sucks. This sucks. I can't believe how much I miss him. I'm not the only one. We're all miserable. Sam and Teal'c haven't said a word since we got here. None of us have. We're just standing here, awkwardly occupying space next to each other, visibly uncomfortable with ourselves and each other.

The members of SG-1 being ill at ease with each other has got to be some kind of first. After everything we've been through together, we can't think of one thing to say. Can't seem to find the familiar, unspoken sense of unity we effortlessly flow into whenever we are together and four vastly disparate and distinct individuals become that magic, unique synergy that is SG-1.

If ever we needed proof 'chemistry' only happens as a result of a specific combination of necessary elements, we have it right here. We're not four. We're three. The formula is incomplete. Can't make it happen without all the ingredients. Something's missing.

Someone's missing.

This place is foreign and unfriendly to me today. I feel like more of an intruder in the SGC then I did the first time I walked in here. I haven't done much else this weekend except think. Done a whole lot of thinking. Mulling the whole thing over, coming to some conclusions. Most of which have alarmed me considerably and are not helping to make me feel at all comfortable in a place I've grown somewhat accustomed to. For all it was stranger to me than Abydos, even, when I first got here.

My growing sense of paranoia has everything to do with some conclusions I've come to while speculating on exactly WHAT it is Jack has gotten himself mixed up in. What has he gone undercover to try and uncover.

Going with the current technological theme of relevant events the only thing making sense is that happy little band of techno-bandits somewhere out there in the universe. This has something to do with them. They have to be what Jack is after.

When they escaped, we sort of dismissed them. It was embarrassing they had gotten away, but realistically, what harm could they do? They were trapped out there, right? Cut off from home and from whatever support they might have enjoyed for their nasty little covert activities. The SGC had control of both Stargates, so, with the way back slammed and bolted the best they could hope for was to be hapless refugees alone out there in the big, cold, friendless universe. Sheer survival would be their biggest concern. A HUGE concern. I've been out there. I know what I'm talking about.

Sure, it's a bit of a blot on the record they were out there, unaccounted for, but all on their own they couldn't do much damage. No need to worry about them. Keep our eyes peeled for four ratty looking Earth guys knocking about and looking slightly dispossessed. Good luck to you, guys, you're going to need it.

But what if the off-world set up was more organized than we'd figured? If they'd planned for this contingency? What if the whole thing was much bigger than the four guys we found? And had been going on for a long time? Way before we got wind of it and shut it down. Or so we thought.

What if we didn't bust the thing up at all? What if all us taking the second gate away from them did was slow them down a little, force them to alter their method of operations, but not stop them? What if those four guys had a place to go off-world, had a whole bunch of OTHER friends, and the whole happy gang of off colour Merry Men are still out there looting the universe, completely free of any restraint?

If this is the case, rather than shutting them down we may actually have done them a favour. Handed them total license to do as they pleased without having to worry about getting caught. Or needing to hide their activities, to camouflage their gate every time they used it. No longer needing to worry about trying to coordinate their usage of their gate with ours.

Which brings me to my next point of concern. The only way the 'switch and gate' gambit could have worked BEFORE is if there was someone here in the SGC working for them. Feeding them the scheduled activations of the gate. Mission details. Telling them where to find what they were stealing based on what we found out there. Erasing energy signatures from computer back-up logs.

Yeah, they had to have had someone on the inside. A someone who's still here. Still feeding them information and working with them in some capacity with regards to helping them to decide where they go, what they go after and what they do with it after they get it. I admit this is all theoretical, I have no actual proof any of this is happening but seeing as how there had to have been someone doing this BEFORE we found out about the misuse of the second gate and I haven't heard about anyone being suddenly found out and clapped in irons for being a spy… But even if they had found them and made them 'disappear' without a fuss - there's still someone here at the SGC doing the covert operative thing.

There has to be.

What's more, it has to be someone fairly high up in the pecking order. Someone who has access to sensitive mission information. As well as knowing the command codes. For fooling around with the computer. Altering backup logs, that sort of thing. Like when someone tried to hide the energy signature Sam went looking for, confirming the whole 'second gate' hypothesis in the first place.

Somehow I don't think someone using 'Joe the Janitor' as his cover would be of much use to them. It has to be someone close to the top of the heap. Someone with the access, the ability and the opportunity. Someone I know. Someone I might trust.

"For what purpose were we summoned?" Teal'c's deep, sombre voice sounds suddenly, bringing me out of my troubled thoughts and back to the remaining members of my family.

"My guess is we're getting our fourth," I reply, trying to sound cheerful and encouraging. We have to keep the ole team spirits up. This used to be Jack's job. I guess I'll be taking over for him until...

Oh my god. I never thought. It still hasn't sunk in. Not really. Jack has 'retired.' That means 'gone for good.' Never coming back. I know that probably isn't really the case, hopefully isn't really the case - he'll be back. Once this is all cleared up and the bad guys are caught. He'll be back. If he makes it through, okay. But he will. Of COURSE he will. He's Jack. He'll do the job. He'll be back.

He'll be back.

But... I'm the only one who knows that and I can't let on - I can't act like I'm expecting him to come back. I can't behave like I know this whole 'retirement...thing...is just an act. I have to make it look like I think he's gone for good. Just like everyone else. And I have to learn to live with what that means for SG-1. Just like Sam and Teal'c.

Jack, I hope for your sake I can pull this off.

"Who do you think it'll be?" Sam asks me a little apprehensively, as she tries to go for an unconcerned and casual 'Jackian' slump against the railing.

I'm not the only one trying not to let on they're way more affected by this than they can afford to be.

'Oh, we'll probably get someone like Ferretti, and you'll get command," I try to reassure her.

As far as I am concerned, that's exactly what should happen. Sam can do the job and she's earned the right to command SG-1. She'd be the last one to say this about herself, but she's bright, she's capable and she has a very keen analytical mind. Cracker jack, when it comes to tactics. I'd have no qualms about putting my fate in her hands, and I don't think I'd be getting any arguments from Teal'c about it either.

I can see from the look on her face she doesn't share my confidence in her abilities, but then that's hardly a surprise. Nor is her response.

"Ooooh, I don't know about that, they'll probably go with someone higher than major."

She's probably right, come to think of it. Since when does anything that's done in the military have ANYTHING to do with what SHOULD happen? What makes sense?

Or what's just - right?

I'm trying to quell a reactionary burst of anger when I hear footfalls on the spiral stairwell behind us.

Peachy. Show time.

Sam jumps nervously to attention as the general walks up to us. Followed by the last person I was expecting to see.

My heart plummets all the way down to the centre of the earth.

THIS...can't be happening. Of all the people George could have picked - why - why him?

"As you were," the general addresses us in a firm, but not unkind tone. There is no way to make this a pleasant experience for any of us. No way to make it any less horrible or awkward then it already is. We hate what's about to happen, he knows it, and he's doing his best to make a distasteful, but unavoidable event as palatable as possible for those who are about to get fed something they're not gonna like.

I wish I felt as charitable. But I don't. Mister Sweet and Nice has just about had it up to here with being made to swallow stuff he doesn't want to.

THIS has nothing to do with Jack. THIS is about not wanting the time all of us have to be without him to be any worse than it already has to be.

Hammond can't help but notice we've taken in the identity of our new 'fourth' with some degree of trepidation. He doesn't have to, he's the boss, he can tell us 'this is the way it is, like it or lump it', but he also cares how we feel, so he's continuing onward in his best 'break it to them gently' voice.

"Since SG-1 is considered the flagship unit, it falls on me to assure that you have the strongest possible leadership. Therefore, I'm reassigning the most senior officer we have in the field as your new commanding officer. Colonel Makepeace will be joining SG-1 immediately. I hope you'll make him feel welcome."

I'm sure that makes sense from your point of view, George, but it doesn't from mine. Sam can do the job. We know her, we trust her. We want HER.

Okay, make that me. My determination to have my wishes considered only grows as I look into the cold, unfriendly eyes of the alternative.

"Um, Sir - ah - I - I don't want to seem out of line, here, ah...but since I'm a civilian here, I'm probably the only one who can say this…"

Oh yes I do. I want to be WAY out of line. I want to jump up and down and hold my breath until I turn blue. I'm NOT happy here!

To his credit Hammond can see this, and he's kind enough to allow me the dignity of at least VOICING my objections. Again, I know he doesn't HAVE to. I can tell from his expression this isn't an argument I'm going to win, but he'll let me talk anyway.

"Spit it out, Doctor," he says to me in a very tolerant voice.

"Well, no offense, ah, but doesn't Major CARTER deserve to take charge of SG-1?

Makepeace is giving me a look that could freeze molten lava. It's starting to occur to me I might be making a significant tactical error here, ticking off the new 'fearless leader' before he's even had a chance to step up to the plate. I've gotten kinder glances from System Lords.

But it's a funny thing with me and puffed up assholes who give me attitude. Who think they can push me around because they're so much bigger than me. It makes me just a little bit...crazy. Brings out that reckless streak in me which I'm sure is a major contributing factor to the preponderance of grey in Jack's hair.

I've normally got a very strong survival instinct but jerks like Makepeace just bring out the worst in me.

"Major Carter has an exemplary record on the team, as recognized by her recent promotion to major. But major is a far cry from colonel."

Hammond is still trying to be the peacemaker, still trying to make the pill a little less bitter to swallow.

I HATE pills.

"I understand, General," Sam pipes up suddenly, casting me a slightly admonishing sidewise glance. She's embarrassed, wants me to shut up. Doesn't want to make waves. As usual.

Sorry, Sam, I'm not ready to come out of the water, yet.

"I'm sorry, I DON'T. What- what difference does it make what TITLE she has, the - the point is the - "

I'm just starting to get a good head of steam up when she cuts me off at the knees.

"It's all right, Daniel. Really." She's had enough. If she could get away with wrestling me to the ground and stuffing a dirty sock in my mouth to shut me up she'd do it. But not in front of the general, huh, Sam?

Or the new boss.

Oh, happy day. I'll be paying for this later. In more ways than one. Way to go, Daniel, all shooting your mouth off has done is give George more grief over this than he needed, made Sam want to take you out back and pound the snot out of you for drawing attention to her, and announced yourself as SG-1's chief smart mouth and troublemaker to Colonel 'By the Book Chief Anal Asshole Sir Jar Head.'

I'd say the day is getting off to a fantastic start.

The general has done what he had to and without further ado, he dismisses us and leaves. Makepeace's expression tells me just how good a first impression I've made on him as he steps forward to give us the requisite pep talk.

This man is going to put a bullet right between my eyes the first chance he gets. He couldn't hate my guts any more if I were wearing a dress. Oh boy. I'm going to be seriously dead if I don't make up for some lost ground, here.

"I'm proud to join you folks. I hope you can learn to trust MY command as much as you did Colonel O'Neill's."

He may have meant that last bit for all of us, but he aimed it right at me. Nor did I miss the emphasis. Yes Sir, you are the boss, Sir. Got it. Got it good. He's also reminded me I'm supposed to be mad at Jack. Shit. Mad at Jack. Can't forget that.

I hate this shit but I'd better lie through my teeth. At this point, resistance is just plain stupid. I want to live long enough to see Jack get his team back and wipe that smug look of, 'I am GOD, you WILL do what I say' right off Colonel Asshole's face.

Preferably with his fist.

"I'm sure we will," Sam says with resigned correctness. "Sir."

Good Soldier Sam.

That's right, Sam, suck up your disappointment and suck up to the new boss. Smart thing to do. I'm about to do the same thing. Got no choice. Gotta get the asshole off my back and stick it to Jack at the same time. All for the glory of the SGC.

I'm really, really sorry about this, Jack. This is just about the scummiest thing I've ever done, but it's the desperate times, desperate measures thing. Something I'm sure you can relate to. What I'm about to say will make it look like - look like I've tossed you out with the trash. Like I'm sorry I ever knew you. The way it's supposed to look.

I know it has to be done, but still, I just wish I didn't hate myself quite so much as I do at the moment.

"I never really trusted Jack's command but, uh...I'm open."

I can't actually manage to make eye contact while I'm saying it, but he buys it. Oh yeah, that came out as just the right combination of sniveling toady and vindictive reaction to betrayal. Petty and pandering, all in one. That was good. Doctor Jackson's sour grapes opinion of his former team leader and best friend will be all over the SGC by lunchtime.

Maybe I should consider a career on the stage.

I wish I was dead.

Makepeace sneers at me with a mixture of triumph and contempt. He thinks he's scared me into submission. Thinks I'm not even worth bothering with.

Good. Just what I was going for.

"That's good. Then I'll see you at our first briefing."

One more withering look at me and then he swaggers away. Colonel Tough Guy. Top of the food chain. Look at me, folks, I'm the boss of SG-1.

Biggest jerk on the block. I hope you trip over your ego and break your neck.

God, I HATE the military.

Teal'c has barely moved or made a sound during this entire, sordid episode. He doesn't look at either us of as he abruptly turns and glides silently away, wrapped in his stately mantle of Jaffa inscrutability. So much class in that exit it doesn't even bear comparison.

I look to Sam, and see she's seething. Whether it's because of what I said before, or what I've just said now, but she's damned unhappy with me and she doesn't hold back showing me. I feel like I've lost another friend.

Possibly two. Whatever Teal'c has made of what has just happened, he's choosing not to share right now.

However, it's clear I've slipped more than a few points in Sam's estimation. She hurls a disgusted look at me and then leaves me too.

Leaves me standing by myself and feeling even more alone.

 

This is a nightmare.

I'm hiding in my office until the last possible minute before I absolutely HAVE to go out there and go to the briefing. I just can't deal with what I'm seeing on the faces of everyone I've seen today.

The strange, revolting combination of pity and scorn. I'm the guy who was the best friend of Jack O'Neill. You know, ex-colonel, good guy, action hero, and saviour of the Earth Jack O'Neill. The THIEF. The blot on the escutcheon of the proud and mighty SGC.

Oh, THAT Jack O'Neill.

How soon they forget. Jack O'Neill is a name no one mentions. Most of them are ashamed to admit they even knew him, never mind own up to having once admired him. After everything he's done for Earth, how many lives he's saved - a lot of them the same people now walking past me trying not to look me in the eye - this is the thanks he gets.

A bunch of people walking around trying to distance themselves from him, his memory, his very existence and anyone who had anything to do with him.

And I'm the guy who was closest to him. The guy who more than anyone should have seen this coming. Maybe I did. Maybe I knew more than I'm saying. Maybe I was in on it, even, just was smart enough not to get caught.

Oh, no one's saying anything. Nothing like that. But they're thinking it. I can see it in their eyes as their glances slide by me as quickly as they do.

It warms me to the bottom of my soul, so it does.

Lets not even get into the ones who are resenting the shit out of me for still being here while he isn't, when I've got no business being here in the first place. And never did.

I'm probably overreacting but I can't help it. Sam was so angry with me. It hurts to even consider it, but I can't help thinking Sam is falling into that camp. Rapidly.

Makepeace owns the concession.

I don't think I fully appreciated just how many people here still resent my presence. Resent my 'special' status, the perceived preferential treatment I've received as a member of SG-1. Under Jack's protection.

I'm not afraid to call it the way it was. Jack has a lot of clout around here. Had. Had a lot of clout. His acceptance of me went a long way to clearing most of the obstacles to me being here and becoming a functioning part of this place. It wasn't easy. Plenty of people were less than thrilled with the idea of having a wide-eyed, slack-jawed, longhaired civilian wandering around. With his ideals and less than kind opinions of their ways of doing business. Not to mention his big mouth and propensity for expressing himself at every politically incorrect opportunity.

But for Jack I wouldn't be here right now. If Hammond had had his way, I'd be sitting in a back room somewhere, going blind going over things other people were bringing back through that gate. I wasn't exactly George's favourite person when I came 'home'. He was at the top of the list of a whole bunch of folks not exactly doing the welcoming with open arms thing when Danny came marching home. No fatted calf was killed for this particular prodigal archaeologist.

I'll never know for sure exactly what Jack did to get me on SG-1. He's never said, and I doubt he ever will. But he went in there fighting and didn't come out until he got what I wanted. The first of many, many times he's gone to bat for me.

I owe Jack a lot more than I can ever tell him. I've never fully realized it until this very moment. Just as I never realized how much I've come to rely on the comforting, constant buffer of his influence and approval between me and the 'reality' of the SGC.

I meant what I said before. About him being my hero. Now I have to be one for him.

Going through that door and walking the military gauntlet on the other side scares the piss out of me. I'm not ashamed to admit it, but for Jack's sake, I have to do it. I have to face those hard cases and disapproving faces, and I have to keep going no matter who gives me whatever kind of grief they're going to.

I'm going to get on with it, keep it together, and do everything I need to do to hold the fort at this end. Jack needs to have a team to come back to. He'll have one. Whatever it takes.

However, I'm not stopping there. A spy is hiding behind one of those faces. I'm suddenly of a mind to engage in a little cloak and dagger activity myself.

I'm startled by the sound of my door opening. Makepeace barges in without so much as a 'by your leave', slams the door behind him and then stands there for a second, glowering at me.

Oh, I guess being the leader of SG-1 means you don't have to knock.

"Something I can do for you, Colonel?" I inquire as blandly as possible.

He scowls at me and stomps around my desk, coming to a stop directly in front of me. A burly hand fists itself in my T-shirt. I find myself coming up out of my chair with alarming alacrity, all the more disconcerting in that I've exerted no energy or inclination toward arriving on my feet. I end up suspended nose to nose with him, loosely dangling from the hand wrapped in my shirt.

He scornfully scrutinizes me for an uncomfortable interval. I'm trying to keep my expression neutral, my breathing even, and most importantly am attempting to resist an almost irresistible impulse to reach up and….tweak his nose.

Which probably wouldn't be wise. I get out of this alive I've seriously got to get my head examined.

"People like you make me sick," he says finally. "Big mouth, big talk, think you own the world. You've got some nerve walking around here dressed like that. You don't deserve to wear that uniform."

"So I've been told," I reply calmly. Just - just one 'beep'. Just one. What could it hurt?

"You think you're funny, don't you?" he continues, his tone becoming lower, more menacing. "You think you're pretty smart, too. Well, I don't like comedians. Wise-asses. Know-it-alls. Don't like any of 'em. But what I don't like MOST of all - I don't like CIVILIANS."

"So you're saying this isn't the beginning of a beautiful friendship?"

His eyes narrow slightly; the side of his face pulls up in a tight, leering half-smile.

"You don't like me much, do you, Jackson?"

"Can I refuse to answer that on the grounds I'm partial to my face the way it is?"

He's making all the right menacing moves, but he's coming across as being very controlled. No way he's going to hit me. He's not that stupid. He just wants to make me THINK he's going to hit me.

He snorts in my face. "You've got guts. And a mouth to match. O'Neill might have put up with your bull, but all attitude is going to get you on MY team is a lot of trouble."

I've just about had enough of the grandstanding. I get the point. He's big, he's tough and he can bench press me over his head.

Big deal. I know how to spell ignoramus. Pronounce it, too.

"If you wouldn't mind, Colonel, would you please let me go, give me the speech and get out of my face? I've got a briefing to go in about five minutes and I'd like to get my notes together, if it's all the same to you."

He slams me back down in my chair so abruptly the breath is pushed out of my chest. "You want the speech?" he hisses as he leans over me. I can only stare dumbly back up at him as he angrily continues. "You want the speech, Doctor Jackson? I'll give it to you. I'll give it to you all right!"

I'm still saying nothing, blinking stupidly up at him he continues to hurl words at me. His face is turning an alarming shade of red. I'm wondering if I haven't seriously overestimated his intelligence.

"I don't know what O'Neill saw in you, but it must have been something to waste so much time on you. He cut you a hell of a lot of slack. I don't get it. I just don't get it."

No. You wouldn't. Not in a million years. I'd be wasting my time and yours trying to explain it to you. Not that I feel particularly compelled to, or that it would even be worth the effort.

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not Jack O'Neill."

Don't have to tell me once.

"Whatever little deal you and he had going, that's all over now. I'm the leader of SG-1 and nobody on my team gets a free ride. Especially dead-weight, wise-assed civilians. I don't care how 'smart' you are, brains don't cut any ice with me."

So I see.

"I'm putting you on notice, Doctor Jackson. "You are going to do things my way, and you're going to do them the way I say. You're going to get with the program and pull your weight out there or so help me I'll bounce you off MY team so fast your head will spin. I'm gonna boot that sorry civilian ass of yours until your performance in the field is up to MY standards. No member of my team gets cut any slack or places another in danger 'cause they don't know their ass from the business end of their weapon. You hearing me, DOC?"

"I'm not deaf." I don't scare easy, either.

He stares down at me, breathing heavily. "The flagship team of the SGC. A civilian geek, an alien turncoat and a woman. O'Neill was the only one of you worth a damn and look where it got him. Jesus."

Well, THAT was interesting. Very interesting. I mentally file his last comment away for further consideration. I think we're just about done with the 'new alpha male establishes dominance' scene. I figure he's peed on me enough.

Looks like I figured right. Makepeace is calming down, regaining his composure. He affixes me with a final, piercing look before he moves away from me, bound for the door.

"Get moving," he grunts as he approaches the exit. "Get your butt down to that briefing. And don't forget..."

He opens the door, then pauses. Turning back he flashes a contemptuous smile at me. "I'll be watching every move you make. We understand each other?"

"Don't worry, Colonel, I've got your number," I sneer right back at him.

Okay, so it's not too smart. I was going to try and play Mister Co-operative with the King of the Jar Heads, but you know what? He just went and made me mad. I think it's just about time to stop letting Neanderthals like him push me around. Having Jack to fall back on was comforting, but it's suddenly occurring to me that in running interference for me, maybe he hasn't been doing me any favours. I might not be anyone's first choice for soldier of the month, but I haven't exactly been standing around here for the last three years with my finger up my ass, either. I've paid my stinking dues. I've done my stinking share. More than pulled my weight and fuck you, Colonel Makepeace, Sir. With no due respect.

Get ME bounced off your team, will you? YOUR team? I don't think so! Threaten me? Well, we'll just see about that. See about a whole lot of other things, while we're at it. Maybe it's time to see just how much clout the geek really has around here.

Bring it on, you brain-dead, no-necked, arrogant, puke-faced -

I'm so mad I can't even think. He snorts at me one last time and leaves, pulling the door closed behind him. I fumble with the papers on my desk, trying to bring myself back under control.

We understand each other. Only too well. This is war. And the battle lines have just been drawn.

Watch yourself, Colonel. I'm not a soldier, but I know how to fight. What's more, I fight dirty. And I fight to win.

 

 

P7B-489. Planetary survey. A walk in the park. Literally, from the looks of the place and the telemetry from the UAV.

Makepeace is less than impressed. To put it mildly.

Not to put too fine a point on it, he's hopping mad. He had his eye on P5X-281. First contact situation. Right down SG-1's usual alley. Imagine his surprise when Hammond decided to give SG-11 the nod for it and fobbed this 'milk run' off on us.

SG-1 is going to be spending an invigorating afternoon collecting soil samples instead of rushing intrepidly forward into action and adventure. Makepeace is so disappointed he's almost in tears. He's the envy of the SGC. Getting the nod for the top spot on the number one team, he's been so hot to go out there and start becoming the stuff of legends he's been all but creaming his BDUs. And here he is, passed over for his first shot at greatness. I could almost find it in my heart to feel sorry for him right now.

"Jackson! Get the lead out and take point. I said, MOVE IT, Mister!"

Almost.

"No, no, let the GENIUS carry it. He could use some exercise from the looks of him. Getting a little flabby there, Doc? O'Neill's been taking it easy on you, letting you get soft. We'll take care of that, no problem. We'll have you whipped into shape in no time. You'll pull your weight and then some. Take that one - AND that one. Come on, pick it up and get out front. NOW."

Who am I kidding? I hope he chokes on it.

Teal'c steps forward and puts a restraining hand on my shoulder.

"I will take point, DanielJackson," he says quietly, as he takes one of the packs from me. I can't help but notice it's the heaviest one.

I also can't help but notice it seems I still have at least ONE friend on SG-1.

Makepeace looks less than impressed by what Teal'c has said and done. His displeasure is more than evident on his face as he bears down on us.

"Beg pardon?" he barks at Teal'c. "I thought I heard myself give an ORDER. Not a suggestion. An order. I can understand HIM not getting it," he continues with a disdainful toss of his head at me, "but I was under the impression YOU were familiar with the concept. Perhaps I was misinformed."

"You were not." Teal'c has drawn himself up to his full height, shoulders squarely set, the immovable object personified. His chiseled in stone expression is equally unforgiving. "The order was ill-conceived. It would result in a disposition of the team members contrary to our accustomed field practices and would furthermore be utilizing your manpower resources in an inefficient fashion. This is understandable. You are as yet unaware of our standard field procedures, strengths or the customary way in which Colonel O'Neill deploys us. You will learn. We will be happy to instruct you."

Inclining his head respectfully, Teal'c begins to turn and walk away from the gate. "I will take point," he says smoothly.

"Stop right where you are, Mister," Makepeace barks at him. "I didn't ask for your opinion, I gave an order. Jackson takes point. You get our six. Give him back the pack and bring up the rear. That's an order."

Teal'c has stopped walking, but he doesn't turn back. "It is not the way we do business."

I can see Sam out of the corner of my eye. She's getting just as worried as I am. I don't know what's rattling us more, the unsettling anachronism of the colloquial phrase Teal'c has just used, or the deep, low, clearly dangerous tone it was delivered in.

The sun is shining but there's no mistaking the storm warnings all around us.

"I don't care what you USED to do," Makepeace fires back at him. "Now I'm here, I'm the leader and you'll do things MY way."

Teal'c finally turns, a mildly troubled expression on his face. "That is impractical. I do not understand your reasoning. You have been granted the leadership of a fully tested and proven field unit which has functioned smoothly as a highly effective, efficient sum of its constituent parts. We have been together for three years. We have learned the capabilities of each member of this team and evolved our procedures through experience and battle trial. I do not understand why you would wish to 'mess with success.' This is the sign of a poor leader. Colonel O'Neill would not do this. He understands the necessity of flexibility on the part of the leader, as well as those being led. He would not summarily reject proven methods in an unjustified attempt to impose his will. Colonel O’Neill recognizes a true leader may only lead where others are willing, and indeed able, to follow.”

Makepeace flushes, a cruel smirk on his face as he strides up to Teal'c and faces him down, practically nose to nose. I have a hard time catching what he's saying to our friend because the words are delivered quickly, in breathless, biting snatches almost too low to carry far beyond the hearing of the man to whom they are being directed.

"You've got a HELL of a lot of nerve holding up O'Neill to me, you yellow-bellied, back-stabbing bastard! After the way the three of you turned on him? Turned him in? Talking to me about teamwork? What the FUCK do you know about it? I've SEEN the way SG-1 operates! Turns tail and runs at the first sign of trouble, ratting to the aliens and saving your own asses instead of backing up your CO. Jack should have gotten a fucking MEDAL for what he did and what did he get instead? Turfed out on his ass. Thanks to you!"

He's not done ranting, but I don’t bother listening to the rest of it. I've heard quite enough. More than enough.

My my, Colonel Makepeace, What an INTERESTING attitude you have. Downright fascinating. Fascinating enough to definitely warrant further investigation. Later. But first, we've got to get through this situation we have here and the rest of this mission.

"It's all right, Teal'c," I say loudly. "He's right. He's the boss. We have to do what he says."

Makepeace stops raving, he and Teal'c both turn to watch me as I walk up to them. One pair of eyes considerably kinder than the other.

I know what Teal'c's trying to do, and I appreciate the effort, as well as the thought behind it. However, we can afford to concede this particular battle. Teal'c doesn't need to shield me from any consequences of this command decision. It isn't like we're about to sally forth into a nest of Jaffa. We're going to take a walk in a nice forest and pick up some dirt, rocks and flowers. I'm not about to get my head shot off if I stick it out there in front.

Besides, even if I was, keeping my hat in one piece isn't worth risking my friend going up on charges trying to protect it.

I'll take point. Enough, already.

I reach Teal'c's side, put my hand on his arm and start to take the pack from him. At first, he won't let go.

"It's okay, Teal'c," I say firmly as I tug on the strap once more. "Let's just get the job, done, 'kay?"

His dark eyes spark briefly with understanding as he lets go of the burden he was trying to spare me. I smile at him, shoulder it, and then set out through the trees.

"Hey, the civilian is smarter than he looks!" Makepeace laughs. "Come on, people, let's get moving."

Buddy, you just bought yourself a pile of trouble. Jackson style.

 

It's been a fairly pleasant afternoon, considering the way it started. We're mostly after botanical samples this trip out. We might not have been doing so hot in alien technology retrieval but some of the alien flora specimens various SG teams have been bringing back lately have caused a fair amount of excitement in the medical and biosciences departments. Nice to know not everything we find out here isn't considered to be a waste of time if it can't be used to blow things up with.

I'm picking flowers, Sam is bagging and labeling the samples, Teal'c has gone a little ahead to scout around and see if there is anything further of interest, and Makepeace? Well, the good colonel is skulking about making no attempt to disguise just how disgusted he is with being reduced to supervising a bunch of daisy pickers.

Sure ain't the sort of duty you saw yourself pulling when you took the job, huh, Colonel? Bet you're saying to yourself right now, 'what's up with this, Jack O'Neill didn't have to pick no freaking daisies!'

No, he didn't. But, as you reminded us earlier, you're no Jack O'Neill. Not in your wildest dreams.

Still, I have to admit he has a point other than the one on top of his head. This isn't the sort of mission SG-1 usually gets assigned. Especially as I know we really SHOULD have gotten the first contact mission. SG-11's anthropologist has only just been transferred to the project. He's only been through the gate twice - has never been in a first contact situation before. I've got no doubt he can handle it. Robinson is a bright guy, very personable, but still, it's a little bit of a load to throw on his shoulders when SG-1 was available and the mission itself was the perfect bone to fling to the new leader of the flagship team. Who was obviously eager to get out in the field with his shiny new command and do the SGC proud.

Which has to make me wonder why Hammond didn't throw it to him.

The general is no idiot. He knows how damaging Jack's disgrace has been to the morale of the SGC - and to the morale of SG-1 in particular. He also knows the people under his command. You would think his first priority would be to try to put the whole business aside as quickly as possible by doing everything he could to ensure the 'new' SG-1 was up and running as smoothly as possible.

Ticking off its new commander on its very first outing doesn't strike me as the best way of accomplishing this. In fact, this mission doesn't seem to have anything to do with promoting the new SG-1 at all. It's almost as Hammond knows he doesn't HAVE to worry about whether or not the team is going to be able to make the transition quickly because he knows this change in leadership is only temporary. As if he is more interested in keeping US busy doing something innocuous and SAFE than he is in keeping Makepeace happy. Makepeace isn't his primary concern, here. We are.

He's keeping us out of harm's way. He has to let us go out there - it would look suspicious if SG-1 were indefinitely stood down for no good reason. Almost as suspicious as it would have looked if he hadn't replaced Jack immediately. Which he did. With the only person he logically could, and have it look 'right'. He had no choice. He had to give us a new 'leader' and then he had to give us a mission. Business as usual. Life goes on. That's the way it has to look.

But what he DOESN'T have to do is give us a mission that will place us in any sort of danger. God, this is Jack's doing! I can hear him now. 'General, I'll do it, but only if you promise me you'll take care of my team while I'm gone. You send them out there somewhere where they can get shot at without me and I guarantee you I won't be a happy man when I get back.'

Yeah, I can hear him all right. That's exactly what he would say. Exactly what he would have done.

You don't have to worry about us, Jack. George is looking out for us. You - you just worry about yourself. Take care of yourself. We'll be fine.

I realize this is all just speculation. Still, I'm willing to lay money SG-1 isn't going to be doing anything but daisy picking until Jack comes home. And seeing as how having us do THAT for any length of time would eventually be suspicious in itself, it can only mean Jack isn't planning on being away for very long.

God, I hope I'm right.

He's already made contact. What happens next? Obviously, he has to go where the action is. Which I would presume is - this side of the gate. Another reason why it's looking more and more as if Hammond is in on the whole thing. The only way Jack can get through the gate is if the general lets him. Guess if I'm looking for confirmation I'm on the right track with all of this, Jack coming back to the SGC looking for a ticket to the other side will be it.

A burst of excited chatter from the branches overhead draws my attention. This particular forest seems to be rife with a primate species extremely curious about us and our activities. They've remained pretty well hidden in the overhead foliage and we haven't been able to get a good look at them, but they've been watching us the whole time we've been here. I'm not too concerned. They haven't made any aggressive moves and don't seem to be dangerous, just curious. They're spooking Makepeace, though. He's pacing restively, fiddling with his gun, looking up at the trees and scowling a lot.

The macho jerk had better not start shooting at them.

Makepeace must have clued in I was watching him, because his head suddenly swivels around until his unfriendly eyes fix on me. "What are you looking at?" he snaps at me.

"An omadhaun, sir," I reply sweetly. Behind me, I can hear Sam stifling a giggle, which proves she's got much more extensive knowledge of English vocabulary than our fearless leader.

Much more. I'm impressed. That wasn't exactly a commonly used euphemism for 'idiot.'

The omadhaun in question is staring at me with a slightly perplexed expression, suspicious I've just pulled one over on him yet again but not knowing for sure. I've been doing this to him all afternoon. Throwing hundred dollar words at his thirty dollar capacity to comprehend them and watching with great amusement and no small amount of smug satisfaction as he demonstrates his continuing inability to make change.

Or the slightest bit of sense out of a single thing I'm saying.

The best part is there isn't a damned thing he can do about it. I'm not being discernibly insubordinate, argumentative or confrontational, I'm speaking English, and answering promptly and properly when spoken to. Sam understands me. So does Teal'c. He, however - doesn't. But he can't get me to stop unless he ADMITS he doesn't.

Somehow, I just don't think he's going to do that. Hasn't so far, anyway. Wouldn't do for the leader of SG-1 to admit an ALIEN knows more English than he does.

Wasn't kidding when I said I fight dirty. By the time I get done with Makepeace he won't even know what day it is.

This is the most fun I've had in a long time. Sam's getting quite a kick out of the show as well. When we first set out she was so uptight and stuck in 'good soldier' mode I thought she was going to hurt herself. In many ways her version of this nightmare has to be the hardest of all to deal with. As dedicated as we both are to SG-1, neither Teal'c or I have as much of a personal investment in the actual military as Sam does. It's literally - her life. She's very committed to doing her duty. To being part of the program. Not just the Stargate program.

Sometimes her need to be seen as 'the good soldier' conflicts with circumstantial ambiguities. Sometimes the 'best' thing to do isn't always what the guy in charge is telling you to do. Sometimes what you know is more 'right' than what he thinks is the right way to go. Unfortunately her training and conditioning don't support her confidence in her own instincts and abilities during moments when thinking outside the 'regs' is required. Moreover, the concept of challenging authority is almost anathema to her.

I'm working on her.

She's no happier with the situation than the rest of us are, but she'd never dream of letting it show. No way the 2IC of SG-1 can 'act out' or speak up, but she's finding it harder and harder to deny her vicarious enjoyment of MY covert insubordination.

I decide to up the ante. I'll have her in stitches before the day is over. She'll kill me later, but it's worth it, seeing her smile.

""Excoriate qwerty pleonasm imbroglio, wouldn't you say, Sam?"

It's pure gibberish. Doesn't mean a thing, but I affix her with an earnest expression and utter the nonsense sentence in a deeply serious voice, as if I am asking her an actual question. She bites her lip and ducks her head, fighting the smile waging its own battle to be allowed to spread all over her face. Makepeace peers at the pair of us darkly as she wrestles with the part of herself wanting to cut loose and tell the good soldier to go take a perambulation.

Finally she looks askew at me, a decided glint in her eyes, and says, "Gormless, but not inchoate." She punctuates her profound obscurity with an authoritative nod of her head.

YES! Way to go, SAM!

Makepeace can't take it anymore. "Wrap it up, you two," he growls as he begins to move away from us. "It's time to start heading back. As soon as I round up the Jaffa we're moving out."

Sam watches him walk away and waits until he's disappeared behind a tree before whipping around and punching me soundly on the arm.

"Honestly!" she scolds me with a stern look on her face and a smile in her voice. "You're worse than the colonel!"

We each see the sharp pang of loss we both suddenly feel reflected in the face of the other as we realize the 'colonel' she is referring to is not the man who was just standing here.

 

"Don't! I yell at the man taking aim at the little primate scurrying across the clearing. "Don't SHOOT IT!"

Makepeace jumps at the sound and jerks the barrel of his weapon up. He utters a colourful expletive as he tries to regain his composure and reacquire the target, but he doesn't quite have enough time. I'm gratified to see the monkey make it to the base of the nearest tree, and he's up it and out of harm's way before Makepeace can blow his furry little ass to smithereens.

Still carrying the pack he managed to snatch right out from under our noses.

Oops.

The gutsy little furball scared the crap out of both of us. We'd just finished stowing all the samples and collecting paraphernalia away when we heard Makepeace and Teal'c coming back. We turned our attention away from the packs, I swear it was just a second, and next thing we know this screeching mass of hair was dropping down on us from directly overhead.

Didn't land on us or attack us. Wasn't interested in us at all. Apparently it wanted what we thought was interesting enough to spend so much time mucking about with. It grabbed one of the packs and now it's up there in the trees.

The monkey, and the pack.

I'm wondering which one, though, as I'm running to the base of the tree, peering up the trunk, trying to see what I can see.

"What the hell did it get?" Makepeace demands as he reaches Sam's side. 'Damned thieving little bastard," he curses. "Why the hell did you yell like that and spoil my aim? Coulda stopped the little fucker on the ground."

"Is that the way you advocate dealing with all thieves, Colonel?" I can't help but snap at him as I keep trying to make out what I'm seeing at the top of the tree. "Shoot them on the spot?"

He doesn't say anything. I wasn't expecting him to. Sam is quick to fill in the more than pregnant pause.

"It got all the samples, sir."

If course it did. Nuts.

Makepeace takes off his cap and throws it to the ground in a vehement gesture of total disgust. "I don't BELIEVE this!" he storms. "I don't FUCKING believe this. What else can go wrong?"

Sam is still trying to salvage the situation. From what I'm seeing, I might be able to help.

"We can gather more samples, sir," she ventures.

"We don't have TIME, Major," Makepeace thunders back at her. "It took you all damned afternoon to get the lot the GENIUS over there let get……treed. We’re due to report back at 1730 hours. How do you propose to do the work of an afternoon in less than an hour - which is about how long it's going to take us to get back to the gate!"

"Don't yell at her!" I yell at him. "It's not her fault. Besides, it might not be as bad as it seems."

Teal'c has joined me and glances up where I'm pointing. He sees it. Can barely make it out in the shifting shadows of the waving leaves and boughs overhead, but there it is, tightly wedged in a fork between two branches. The little monkey is frantically tugging at it, trying to make it come loose, but it's not budging.

"DanielJackson is correct," my tall friend announces as he turns to look at Makepeace. "It will be possible to retrieve the samples. I will do so immediately."

He hands me his staff weapon and is preparing to hoist himself up into the tree when Makepeace announces he has other ideas.

"No," he shakes his head as he begins to walk toward us, a slightly frowning Sam in his wake. "Not you. Him."

Him. Ah, that would be - me.

Sam and Teal'c voice their protests about the same time. Teal'c, because he really does think it's HIS job to shimmy up the tree, and Sam because, well, she knows about my 'problem' with heights.

She might know about it, but there's something she DOESN'T know, and neither does Makepeace. It's true I've got a bit of a problem with heights. I don't much care for them. But then, any SANE individual with an ounce of self-preservation probably doesn’t either. When faced with a narrow plank and a yawning expanse I'm not the happiest camper in the world, but not to the extent I freeze up with fear if I'm higher off the ground than I can survive if I should happen to fall down. As I don't enjoy the thought of falling great distances and impacting with unpleasant velocity on unforgiving surfaces I don't care to be anywhere where there is a potential for this to occur, but I can still function if I have to be.

However, this 'problem' definitely does not apply when I'm up a tree.

Jack was a lot closer to the truth than he realized when he put a five letter word starting with 'S' in front of another word starting with 'M' and then addressed me by the rather embarrassing combination in the middle of a crowd of people stuffed into the gateroom.

I still haven't managed to put that one behind me.

I spent a great deal of my childhood up a tree, which is one of the reasons why I also spent a great portion of it stuck with the nickname 'Monkey.'

I LIKE trees. On the ground I might trip over my bootlace and drop my ammo clip trying to get it in the damned pistol but put me in a tree I'm as graceful as a gazelle.

There's definitely something wrong with that last analogy but I'm going to have to leave it.

My teammates are still trying to intercede on my behalf in an effort to spare me the ordeal of the ascent but Makepeace is having none of it.

"I want you two to report to the infirmary and get your hearing checked as soon as we get back," he says as he eyes both of them sternly. "There must be something wrong with it - you keep questioning everything I say. And what I say - is this: the Spacemonkey goes. It's his fault the stuff is up there in the first place and besides, it'll give him a chance to catch up with his relatives."

Where does he get off calling me Spacemonkey? He had NO RIGHT to call me that. That - that's special. Jack called me that. Jack is the only one who gets to call me by that name. By any nickname.

Okay, so I make out it bugs me when people tease me about it when really……. Never mind, never mind, Makepeace shouldn't have called me that. Just…. shouldn't have. Now I DEFINITELY have to climb this tree. If only to redeem the name my nemesis has just sullied.

I can feel Teal'c tense beside me, preparing to debate the issue further, perhaps to the detriment of Makepeace's face. I let him know he should back off and let me handle it - it's under control - by giving his sleeve a short, sharp tug.

Teal'c and I have a number of - signals - like that. As do we all with each other. They've evolved over time as a matter of course and of necessity. We've been in situations where you can't communicate any other way. Can't talk to or look at each other even. So we've learned ways to get the message across without letting anyone else know what we're doing.

He gets it. I feel him relax. He doesn't know what I'm up to, but I've just told him I'm okay so he trusts I can handle it, despite what he's seeing.

What I've been doing during my teammates' protestations is laying on the 'Danny in distress' act with a trowel. All the non-verbal body language stuff Jack teases me about, which he says tells the world 'DANIEL'S NOT HAPPY' in big neon letters. I'm duckin' the head, workin' the face, blinking and hugging myself for all I'm worth. Makepeace is totally buying it, too. He looks happier than I've seen him all day. So damned pleased with himself he's practically glowing.

Doesn't have a clue he's got me exactly where I want him.

"You heard me, Spacemonkey," he sneers the epithet at me again. Oh! SO going to make you EAT that word! "Get your ass up there and get that pack. And DON'T come down without it. I'm not going back empty-handed on my first time out through the gate with you goofs."

"Okay." I can't resist putting a little quaver in my voice. It's easy, actually. It's really laughter I'm having a very hard time suppressing.

In a few short minutes one of us is going to be looking like a monkey's uncle and it isn't going to be me.

Teal'c laces his fingers together to give me a leg up. I grab the first branch I can reach, rest against his strong support for a brief second, and give Makepeace my parting shot.

"Don't go away. I'll be right back. I see any representatives of YOUR family tree I'll tell them you say, 'hi'."

One powerful upward thrust from the force of nature beneath my foot and I'm flying.

I'm halfway up the tree in less time than it's taken me to realize I feel like I'm ten again. Which actually isn't a time in my life with a lot of happy memories, except involving moments like this one.

It started out as a way to escape. I was scrawny, shy, strange and way too smart, all of which is a dangerous thing to be if you're ten. And, as I didn't care for being picked on, which I constantly was, I evolved a few coping strategies. Most of which involved me being somewhere where trouble wasn't. Or couldn't find me.

The thing with trees started as one of those strategies. One of my most successful ones, actually. When trouble came calling I made tracks for where no one could touch me. I was reckless, fearless and went higher, farther and further than any of them. Up high I was home free.

After a while, I just liked being there. Not just the climbing part, but finding a comfortable niche and staying there. Sometimes for hours at a time, enveloped in cool, green, living serenity. I was never afraid. Never scared I would fall, never scared of anything. I felt like I was accepted. Protected, even.

I thought I'd lost that state of grace when I grew up and had to leave my green refuge behind. Thought it was gone forever.

Then I met a man named Jack O'Neill.

Wonder how Jack would feel being compared to a tree. No. Way too easy. Not going there. Well, maybe a little. We'll see.

I drag my mind back to what I'm doing. I have a show to put on, after all.

I'm acutely aware I'm being watched from below. It has to be obvious to everyone by now I'm anything but at a disadvantage up here. Definitely not hugging the trunk in quivering terror as expected. Even though I'm still just straight climbing. Rapidly ascending without flourishes or frills.

I've decided it will be more impressive to save the fancy stuff for the descent.

Any worries I may have had about getting into a custody battle with the temporary owner of the prize we both are seeking have been allayed. As soon as he saw me coming the little monkey chittered warningly at me for a few seconds, but then he scampered away. Obviously doesn't want it badly enough to fight me for it.

I've finally made it to the object in question. Only about three-quarters of the way up the tree, but still an impressive distance off the ground. I'm glad the pack got stuck where it did. The branches are already reaching the point where they'd have no problem supporting the weight of a ten year old boy, but expecting them to bear my current mass would be a little unrealistic. I have to remember even though I feel like a boy again, I'm a much bigger one, now.

A fact which is going to be working to my considerable advantage on the way down. 'Cause I'm bigger, now, in more ways than one. Longer reach, for starters. More mass means more momentum potential. Something Sam should be able to appreciate. This is going to be fun. Did I mention when it came to hanging around in trees I tended to get a bit reckless?

Look out below!

But first I have to get the damned pack loose. The sucker is really wedged in tight. I'm using the time it's taking to fight the thing free to mentally map out the route I'm going to be taking going down. I paid attention on the way up, where all the branches were - spatial relationships, distances between the intervals. I couldn't have asked for a better tree for what I have in mind. It's a nice, big, mature deciduous beauty with lots of strong, sprawling, conveniently spaced branches, a thorough supporting network without a lot of younger, immature foliage complicating things.

It wouldn't do to get hung up on something in mid swing. Would completely ruin the effect.

"Got it!" I yell down to the others. I slip it on, settle the weight evenly on my shoulders and back, make sure it's going to stay put, before leaning back to yell once more.

"Next stop, ground floor!!"

Then I plant my feet firmly on the limb beneath me, gauge the distance I have to cover to the next branch and launch myself into empty air.

"DANIEL!" I hear Sam shriek below as my hands connect with the firm support awaiting them. I swing, sight and drop once more without a second's hesitation.

I never had a bicycle when I was a kid so I can't say this is like never forgetting how to ride one. This is more like as natural as breathing, even after all these years, and way more fun. I can't resist letting a wild, exhilarated whoop escape me as I plummet toward the ground, my seemingly erratic, pendulous downward motion barely mitigated by the tenuous contacts I'm making with the intervening branches. I'm having WAY too much fun, and it's going to be over far too soon.

Right about….now, actually. I'm only about fifteen feet off the ground, now, so I figure it's about time for the razzle dazzle finish.

I hunker down on the bough I've just landed on. Directly ahead of me is exactly what I need. The branch is perfectly positioned over the 'landing site' and is just far enough away to afford me enough clearance to give the last swing out and down the right amount of 'oomph' the proper 'dismount' requires.

I've got enough of the 'showman' in me to want to really give them their money's worth.

With a slight twinge of regret for the eventual end of the adventure I leap to the waiting branch, clutch it firmly, give my body an emphatic swing and let go. I ride unerringly down the path of motion I’ve created to describe a clean arc all the way to the ground.

Landing neatly and deliberately dramatically in the midst of my fellows. I flash them all a rakish grin, make a small flourish with my arms and go, "Tah DAH!"

Eat shit and die, Makepeace.

"Daniel!" Sam says breathlessly. She staring at me wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape, noticeably flushed. She's speechless, her face plainly overtaken with an expression of frank admiration that's startling her as much as it is me.

This is a side of me you've never seen before, huh, Sam? Never quite pictured me as the 'Errol Flynn' type? Well, that's me, I'm just FULL of surprises.

She still too overwhelmed for words as I shrug the pack from my shoulders. She reaches blindly out and takes it from me as I grin at her and say, "Here you go. Spacemonkey to the rescue."

I can hear Teal'c laughing behind me even though he isn't making a sound. You just have to know how to listen.

That leaves Makepeace. Who's stunned mackerel impression would be making Jack run for his rod and reel. Bingo. Gotcha, jerk face.

"Was my performance satisfactory, sir?" I inquire mildly of my commanding officer.

He sputters unintelligibly for several seconds. About the length of time it apparently takes him to work out he's been suckered. Well and truly.

A grudging grin finally makes an appearance. He shakes his head as he looks me up and down.

"It'll do," he concedes finally. "It'll do."

We continue to look at each other for a minute. Something's happening here, not something I honestly was expecting, but I'll take it.

The day is mine; we both know it, and what's more, it looks as if he's actually enough of a man to admit it.

Finally he confirms my suspicions and gives me a slight indication he might not be the total asshole I've previously taken him for.

"There might be hope for you after all," he growls somewhat self-consciously and turns away. "Okay, show's over, lets get moving. You - " he nods at Teal'c. "Get your ass up front, there and take Tarzan, here, with you. What's everyone standing around for, show's over, move it out!"

Teal'c drops his massive hand on my shoulder as we move past Sam and Makepeace. A gentle squeeze conveys his vast, unspoken approval.

It was a rocky start, Jack, but your team's still hanging together until you come home.


	3. Chapter 3

I know I've only got myself to blame for this, but I swear, if ONE more person says 'Hey Tarzan, where's Jane?'  to me…. 

The marine delivers his 'oh so original' jibe and then goes snickering off with his fellows.  Yuck it up, Jar Head.  Enjoy it while it lasts.  I'm willing to put up with it, it's for a good cause, after all. 

Every one is so busy having a go at the newly visible and vulnerable Doctor Jackson they're quite forgetting about the recent unpleasantness with Jack O'Neill. 

I figure any way I can run interference for Jack and take some of the heat off is aggravation well earned.  I keep them nicely focussed on hating my guts it will be just that much easier for Jack to make the transition when he returns. 

To this end I've been making myself uncharacteristically conspicuous during the past week.  Highly visible.  Spending my time hanging out in high traffic areas like the comissary instead of hiding in my office or down at Sam's or in some other more solitary place of customary refuge.  Not holding back when it comes to attitude or voicing certain opinions.  Doing my best to look like the affronted jerk with an axe to grind. 

From the reactions I've been getting I seem to be doing a fair job.  Which is a good thing on one hand, and a terribly unfortunate one on the other. 

It's the not knowing whom to trust thing.  In order to be convincing on one front, I have to be convincing on ALL fronts.  Including the interactions I have with my teammates.  Because there's simply no way of knowing who's watching.  Or listening. 

I can't let the act slip. Not for a second. Not even with Sam and Teal'c.  I can't take the risk with Jack's safety.  Not that I think for a minute either one of them are in any way involved, or they wouldn't be capable of keeping the secret, but I can't afford to take the chance.  I know myself how hard it's been to act like I suspect nothing.  To maintain the fiction of my belief in Jack's guilt.  The more people involved, the greater the chance one of us could inadvertently slip, no matter how good our intentions. 

I'm just not willing to risk it.  I'd rather they hated me and thought I was a disloyal scumbag than set them straight for the sake of my ego.  It can take a little bruising for Jack's sake.  Besides, keeping them in the dark will not only keep Jack safe, it will protect them, as well.  They can't tell what they don't know.  Or be made to suffer for it, either. 

Sam's struggling.  We had a bad moment on our last mission.  Yesterday.  Another rousing afternoon of daisy picking, only this time, it was soil samples.  As expected. 

Anyway, she wanted to talk. I guess what happened on P7B-489 got her feeling more confident we could still trust each other in spite of what's happened.  Whatever Jack has done, we're still who we are.  She hasn't been saying much to anyone about her feelings around what's happened with Jack, and there she was, coming to me finally, opening up. 

And I had to shut her down. 

I d idn't have a choice.  Makepeace was there, listening to every word.  Now, while I might trust Sam, I SURE don't trust him.  As a matter of fact, due to who he is and the interesting tenor of a few of the comments he's let slip he's rapidly rising to the top of my list of prime suspects for the mole. With a bullet.  So, there was no way I could play it any way than I did. 

I had to shut down her attempt to try and make sense of everything and maintain some faith in Jack despite appearances. She was looking to me to tell her she still could, and I had to come right back and tell her she was kidding herself. Jack believed everything he'd said.  He really believed what he did was right and justified.  What's more, he'd do it again, if he had the chance.  I should know.  I talked to him.  Heard it from the man himself.  No one knows Jack better than me - right?  So, she could take it from me, it wasn't doing her any good to hold out false faith. 

No one knows Jack better than me.  That's why she was asking, looking to me to give her hope and I had to take it all away from her. 

No one knows Jack better than me...that's why she believed me. 

I had no choice.  Not simply because Makepeace was listening, but because I don't want her doing the same thing I did.  Connecting the dots. Safer for both her and Jack if she doesn't. 

I'm n ot too proud of it, but I did it.  She'll be hurt and confused for a little while. I sure know how that feels, and I'm really sorry she has go through it as well, but it won't be for long.  I'll make it up to her. Honestly, I will. 

However, in the meantime, she's not too happy with me.  Again. 

Teal'c isn't talking at all.  Not that that's anything unusual.  I haven't got a clue what's going on behind those all-seeing eyes, but he continues to be the absolute epitome of inscrutable, unswerving, albeit tacit support.  Whatever he's thinking he's keeping it to himself, being exactly what he always is. 

Teal'c. 

I don't know whether to be worried, or relieved. 

The comissary is pretty deserted this time of night. Now the comedians have cleared out there's only me and a couple of technicians sitting here, burning the midnight oil over a cup of coffee.  Ugh.  It's gotten cold while I've been sitting here contemplating the latest state of my universe. 

I'm a little shocked at how hard this isolation is hitting me.  How difficult going it alone is proving to be.  It's not like I've never had to do this before.  Not like I've never been in a situation where I'm the only one watching my own back.  Being on the outside, being the object of scrutiny and contempt. 

All old, familiar territory.  This whole thing should be water off a duck's back.  Second nature.  No sweat. 

No big deal. 

Not the case.  I feel way too exposed, and far too vulnerable.  For once, being on my own feels painful, unnatural, even. 

I hate it. 

I g uess the whole, 'part of something' has come to mean more to me than I realized.  It snuck in and made itself at home in my psyche when I wasn't looking.  I've come to rely on their support.  More than that, it's become part of what I consider to be 'normal'.  Accepting it without questioning it, it's just the way things are.  The way - the way they SHOULD be. 

Being part of them has become part of being me, and I don't even know when it happened.  I haven't got a clue when me and me against the world became me and them, but there it is.  I've grown accustomed to having them in my space.  Come to need them in my life as a requirement for it being worth living.  Needing them.  Needing…..needing…..him. 

I can't do this right now.  Things are hard enough to deal with already without...complicating them.  So...  I won't.  Think, think of something else. 

If I'm feeling like this, alone, cut off, a stranger to my friends what must - what must HE be feeling... 

Something ELSE! 

Something else, something else.  The situation.  Okay, that's safe enough.  Where are we now, where do we go from here? 

So far, everything seems to be going the way it's supposed to.  The SGC is getting on with it, SG-1 is getting on with it, Jack O'Neill is rapidly becoming history and Daniel Jackson is a loud-mouthed jerk. 

I've been keeping a close eye on Makepeace.  Which hasn't been hard, seeing as how he's rapidly developing a new taste for my company.  As a matter of fact I'm rather surprised I've managed to give him the slip for as long as I have.  Hopefully he finally went home or something.  I guess I should be doing the same. 

I'm guessing our new leader has managed to work a few things out.  He wants to settle in for the long term as the brightest star of SG-1, and even he isn't so arrogant as to not be able to notice a large part of getting the team to play ball with him has everything to do with how he treats the civilian component.  Hammond has been painfully solicitous of us over the past week. Of SG-1 in general, and me in particular.  It's been masterfully subtle, but in his own way he's ever so effectively made it crystal clear I have not only his ear but also his unqualified support. Not that he's come out and hit Makepeace over the head with it or anything, but he's nevertheless made the 'mess with the boy and you'll deal with me' message plain. 

Makepeace is more than getting if it comes down to a matter of George having to chose which one of us gets taken off the team due to any 'irreconcilable differences', it won't be ME. 

So all of a sudden the colonel seems to be seized with this burning desire to be my new best friend. 

I think I liked it better when he was picking on me. Take a hike.  The position is already filled.  As is the other one you're temporarily usurping. 

But, here again, I have to put aside my natural inclination to tell him to go intercourse himself, not just for the sake of the smooth functioning of the team, but for the opportunity his change of attitude will give me to find out a bit more about how the man's mind works.  Discover what he really thinks and feels about certain matters touching on the recent actions of Jack O'Neill. 

Even though making nice with him turns my stomach. 

It's been a week now.  A week since I last saw Jack - and spoke to him. A week since the bad guys looked him up. Something's up.  I don't know how I know this, but I just do.  The same way as I know something's up with Makepeace as well.  The inordinately cheerful mood he's been in today, as well as his determined overtures towards being my buddy are all telling me he knows something I don't making him feel mighty happy and secure. 

I KNOW it's got something to do with Jack, but I don't know how I know. 

Something's going to happen.  Soon. 

  

* * *

  This has to be the stupidest idea in the entire history of stupid ideas.  Me.  In a bar.  With Makepeace.  With alcohol.  Alone. 

Well, as alone as you can be in a noisy, dark, smoke-filled room packed with a bunch of rowdy, horny and inebriated men.  Most of whom are looking at you because the star attraction just happens to be sitting in your lap. 

Yes, ma'am.  They're - they're lovely.  Worth every penny you paid for them.  Now, if you wouldn't mind, would you please get them out of my face and show them to some other deserving soul. 

It might not be possible to actually DIE from embarrassment, but if it were, it would be a mercy right about now. 

'Sheena' shakes her tawny mane at me, coincidentally setting everything else aquiver before leaning over in a painfully theatrical flourish and planting a loud kiss on my flaming cheek.  Then she pinches it, pushes her long, lithe and extremely unclad body up from my lap.  After blowing me a kiss she bounces back to the stage and……resumes. 

The place still rings with the masculine hoots and hollers accompanying her every move.  I feel so 'special' I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.  I can honestly say this is one particular 'male bonding' ritual Jack and I have never shared, nor have I ever felt my life was somehow lacking for not having experienced it with him. 

Makepeace is thumping me on the back, laughing with the unbridled enthusiasm only booze brings.  "Hey GENIUS!"  he chortles.  "Book Boy!  I think she LIKES you, you lucky dog! Look at his face!  Blushing like a virgin.  What's the matter, Doc, don't like girls?" 

"I like them just fine," I grumble, crossing my arms across my chest and trying to move away from the hand settling on my shoulder.  "It's just if I happen to find one naked on my lap I'd rather it be at least partly my idea.  And as a rule I don't work with an audience." 

Evidently Makepeace thinks this is just the funniest thing he has ever heard.  He roars and thumps me on the back again, so hard I'm almost sent sprawling onto the table.  Ah, I see we've passed drunken companionable and moved onto sotted, friendly abuse. 

"Doesn't work with an audience!" he howls.  "Yeah, I'll bet you don't!"  He hooks an arm around my shoulder, hauling me abruptly back until I'm caught in the crook of his arm, staring into his flushed, leering face. 

"So, what do you say, Doc?" he jeers.  "Do you do 'good work'?  Do ya?" 

This is getting…….weird.  Also not going anywhere near where I want the conversation to go.  I'm here for one reason and one reason only and it isn't for getting rubbed by the Queen of the Jungle.  Or pawed by one of her fans. 

"Jack's never complained." 

I don't know what made me say that.  Not - not like that.  It sounds like I said - but that's not what I meant, because, of course, it's never been like THAT - I meant WORK, but that's not what it sounds like because Makepeace wasn't talking about WORK but - shit! 

I've had a little too much to drink myself.  That's it.  Been trying to pace myself, but I've overdone it. That's all.  Gotta be more careful. 

Fortunately Makepeace seems to have latched onto the 'Jack' part of my statement and is oblivious to the context.  He's let me go, gone suddenly somber, is muttering something about heroes and bleeding hearts. 

Ah.  Now we're GETTING somewhere! 

He reaches forward, grasping his beer bottle, then swings it around as he turns back to me, his fist describing a drunken arc that nearly takes the bottle accidentally into my face. 

"Whoah!  Sorry!"  he grins.  "Guess I've had a little bit too much to drink." 

I hear Jack's voice in my head giving the ritual response but I won't listen. 

Makepeace takes a long pull on the bottle, then it's back to me.  The hand on the shoulder is back as well. 

"Don't sweat it, Doc," he begins in a lower, conspiratorial tone as he draws me closer.  "You'll see.  The whole damned bunch of them are gonna see, one day.  Jack's a hero. He's not afraid to do whatever it takes. He understands we can't let anyone stop us from protecting ourselves!  No one! This is war, dammit!  He knows that! You'll thank him one day.  They all will.  You'll see.  Ya gotta trust me, I know what I'm talking about." 

I'm sure you do.  Was pretty positive you did, but now, I know.  Thanks. 

"Jack's okay, ya know," he continues to burble, a crafty expression on his face.  "Hammond's letting him go.  To 'Eudora.' " He snorts extravagantly with the smugness of knowing more than he's saying.  "Eudora.  Yeah, right.  Jack O'Neill is going to retire off world and spend the rest of his life porking the natives and going to seed.  Jack O'Neill.  That's rich.  But Hammond bought it.  He's letting Jack go.  Tomorrow." 

I'm suddenly glad Makepeace is as drunk as he is because he's completely missed how hard that little piece of information has just hit me.  I'm here fishing for minnows and I've just landed a whale. 

One word.  Eudora. 

I'm both exhilarated and utterly terrified.  Eudora clinches it.  What was until now speculation has just been confirmed as fact.  Jack's not going to Eudora to retire.  Never in a million years.  When he told me about Laira he said he'd promised to go back one day.  Meant to keep the promise, but not in the way she'd probably be hoping. 

He wanted to go back, just to see how she was.  How 'they' were, if there was indeed a 'they'.   He owed her that much.  And he wanted me to go with him.  I wasn't too sure about that part, about why, but he was insistent.  WE were going back to Eudora.  To see if there was a little Jack O'Neill.  Or Jill. 

Of course I told him I'd go with him. Go anywhere he asked me to go.  Goes without saying.  Beats me why he wants me to go with him THERE, but then the 'why' isn't really important.  Jack wants me to go, I'll go. 

That's why I know if Jack was REALLY going back to 'Eudora' it wouldn't be without me, and it wouldn't be……to stay. 

'Eudora' means he's on his way.  Bought his ticket to ride right into the nest of thieves.  He's not going to 'retire'; he's walking into the lion's den. Tomorrow. 

Alone. 

Tomorrow.  Oh, god. 

Makepeace has just set me completely free from one kind of worry and plunged me knee deep into yet another.  Now I don't need to trouble myself wondering whether or not Jack really is a thief and a traitor, I only have to worry about him staying alive. 

Oh yeah, this is much better.  Real load off my shoulders, here. 

Makepeace brandishes his bottle at me, indicating I should pick mine up as well.  I comply; he grins foolishly and clanks his beer loudly against mine. 

"Here's to Jack O'Neill!"  he announces resoundingly, and quite sincerely.  "A fucking Hero! A real American!  God bless him!" 

That's something I can certainly drink to.  Without reservation or restraint. 

It's the truth, Makepeace.  Truer than you know. 

God bless him, indeed.  And while you're at it, keep him safe. 

  

* * *

It s eems Makepeace's information was right on the money.  Jack's  here. He's here. 

Here, but not for long.  He arrived at the mountain less than ten minutes ago.  Conducted straight to the gateroom by an armed escort.  No stops, no detours, no chats along the way. 

Straight to the gate and be gone with you. 

There are a whole lot less people in the gateroom for his last, ignominious send off then there have been in the past, welcoming him back.  When he was the returning valiant warrior and not disgraced and disavowed, walking away into oblivion. 

Never to return.  Never allowed to return. 

Sam, Teal'c, Janet and Hammond are down there with him.  No sign of Makepeace.  Still sleeping last night off, I expect.   Just as well.  The way I'm feeling about that two-bit traitor I don't even want him on the same PLANET as Jack.  Not fit to breathe the same air Jack does. 

Just as well Makepeace isn't here.  Not sure if I could stand to see him taking bows in the face of Jack's disgrace.  Not sure I could stop myself from…..from……. 

Oh boy.  It's not hard to make it look like I'm upset.  No acting happening here at all. I'm furious.  Seething.  Almost homicidal.  I'm not normally given to settling things with my fists but right now I seriously want to punch something. I'm hugging myself so tightly I might crack a rib or two, trying to keep my hands under control. Everyone in the control room is giving me a wide berth.  Not looking at me.  Definitely not talking to me. 

Wise decision. 

I'm so angry at everything making this whole unjust charade necessary I'm having a hard time seeing.  Watching Jack take that slow, lone walk up the ramp.  Head held high.  Shoulders squarely set in a 'screw you' stance.  His friends and comrades in arms form a line behind him, watching him sorrowfully as he travels those last few feet up to the gate and out of their lives - probably forever - and suddenly, achingly, I wish I could be there as well. 

Impossible.  Not just for the sake of the 'act'. But I couldn't be that close to him and still be able to let him go out there alone.  If I was down there right now I'd blow the whole thing by doing something stupid like flinging myself into the event horizon after him, and after everything we've both been through to get him this far, having the geek screw it up for him at the last minute 'cause he doesn't want his friend to have to go out there alone….. 

Well, it would be stupid.  So I'm not taking any chances.  That's the only reason why I'm not down at the bottom of that ramp right now.  It's got nothing at all to do with the fact I know there's no way I could look at him and not have him see……. 

Nothing.  He'd see nothing.  Forget it.  Moot point, anyway.  He's all but gone. 

Saluting him.  They're saluting him.  He doesn't look back, but somehow he knows.  He pauses, for just a second, but still doesn't look back. 

Then he's gone. 

All of a sudden I have to look away.  I can't watch the gate shut down.  The sound of it snapping to silence is bad enough.  I can still hear it ringing inside me as I bolt from the room. 

I don't know where I'm going, but I know it won't be far enough.  There isn't anywhere I can go to escape the terror. The agony of uncertainty, knowing he's out there, on his way, not bound for safety as Sam and Teal'c believe, but going alone into God knows what. 

Now we wait.  We pray.  Sounds like a good idea.  Couldn't hurt.  I believe I'll start with the celestial pantheon of the Azani of P6G-581.  Forty-three of them.  Not counting Zod, who's considered a demi-god but who's been picking up in popularity in the last decade with the merchant class. 

Let me see.  Azadal, V-nya, Keltiki, Thant.  Then comes...Darami.  That's the one. I can work with this.  This will keep me busy.  Just have to get the prayers straight, now. 

The Veddalla is for Keltiki.  The Shirapa...Thant.  No, I'm seeking protection.  I should start with the Auvaya.  Go straight to Dyrma.  The Guardian.  The Auvaya. The petition for protection and intercession for those in peril afar... 

  

* * *

"All right, let's make this quick.  Carter, Doctor Jackson, run your tests.  Let's see if the intel was right about Naquadah deposits here." 

Another day, another planet.  The intrepid members of SG-1 follow their fearless leader out into the unknown on their endless quest for...stuff to put in little bags and bottles.  Woo Hoo. 

Flowers and dirt and now rocks, oh my.  Hate to say it, but I'm getting bored. 

Quite a pastoral setting the gate is sitting in.  Picturesque. Prosaic. Pretty.   Pleasant.  Palatable.  Piquant. 

Tedious, monotonous, insipid, repetitious, never-ending... 

Oh yeah, definitely bored. 

Never thought I'd ever find myself wishing for a few Jaffa to come springing up out of the bushes simply to give me something to do.  Something that didn't involve having way too much time with nothing to do but think. Cerebrate.  Cogitate.  Deliberate.  Ratiocinate.  Ruminate. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…. 

"What?  Sorry, Sam, sorry.  Just….never mind, let me get that." 

Sam's gotten a reading and she nods we should head off to the right.  Hey, why not, it's why we're here.   I pick up my end of the big, black box and trundle off after her like a good boy.  I really could care less what Makepeace says to me today.  He can chew me a new one all he wants, I've quite lost my taste for the conflict. 

He hasn't come near me since Jack left. Neither, for that matter, have Sam and Teal'c.  We're three walking sacks of raw, seething grief and there doesn't seem to be any immediate remedy for what ails us. 

I could put a stop to all of it with a few choice words, but now, more than ever, my lips have to be sealed.   Can't put their minds at ease, can't share my own worries.  Just have to hold on and wait until this whole thing plays itself out. 

Teal'c is lingering in the clearing.  Giving the place a thorough visual once-over.  No reason to suspect he needs to, but, making sure, that's just what he does.  No way anything or anyone is going to take us unawares, even on a day as seemingly innocuous and unthreatening as this. 

I violently wish him somewhere else right now.  Watching someone else's back.  Someone who might need him much, more than we do. 

I'm suddenly startled by a hand dropping firmly on my shoulder.  Makepeace.  Damn, didn't even hear him coming. 

Oh God, what NOW?  Doesn't he EVER get tired of being the last thing anyone wants to see coming at them? 

"Carry on, Major," he says brusquely to Sam as he begins to haul me after him.  "Doctor Jackson, a word, if you wouldn't mind." 

I have a choice? 

He doesn't let go of me until he's taken us both out of earshot and Sam's line of sight.  His release is as indelicate as his invitation to this little tete a tete, and from the way he's glowering and pacing, he's got something on his mind. 

That'll be an interesting change. 

I'm so not up for another confrontation with him.  My cup of woe just about runneth over, and if he pisses in it one more time I'm going to drown. 

"I think I might have myself a little problem, Doc," he says finally as he comes to a stop in front of me.  Uncomfortably close.  Definitely violating the personal space barrier.  I try to take a step back and find myself up against the trunk of the tree he's put between us and the others.  Here we go again. 

"Problem?"  I reply. 

"Yeah," he nods his head slowly, deliberately as he closes the gap once again.  "Big problem." 

"I'm very sorry to hear that."  I'm keeping my voice calm, but non-confrontational.  Holding his eye.  The menace in his stance and tone is unmistakable.  I'm not going to give him any grief.  I just want to get through this as painlessly as possible.  Just want it to be over. 

I j ust want the whole thing to be over. 

"You could be a lot sorrier than you know.  Depending on what you know."  He grips the trigger guard of his MP-5 and hefts the weapon between us.  So the barrel is resting against my chest.  No mistaking the meaning there. 

"What DO you know, Doc?" he asks softly. 

"Me?"  I shake my head and shrug.  "Not a damned thing.  Clueless, here.  I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about." 

I w ish that were true.   Colonel Loose Lips Sink Ships here has worked out he might have run his mouth a bit indiscreetly while he was in his cups the other night.  Figured out I just might have guessed he's not exactly what he seems to be. 

So now he's trying to decide whether or not he needs to put a bullet in my brain in order to protect his cover.  Not that he'd do it here, this very minute, but we both know he won't even think twice about doing it as soon as he safely could, if he feels he has to. 

Makepeace getting paranoid and going homicidal on me is the very last thing I need right now. Enough.  Enough.  It's just  - enough.  I can't deal with this. 

Yes I can.  I can.  I can, I can, I'm the frigging little red engine of I damned well can.  Besides, what choice do I have? I'm the one who had to play Secret Agent Man and get the goods on the bad guy, can't lay this at anyone's door but mine.  So I guess I'd better stop whining and start dealing with the consequences of my own stupidity.  No damned wonder Jack didn't want to let me in on what he was planning.  I'm doing such a FINE job of things here on this end.   Moron. 

Okay, how shall we deal with this?  What would someone like Makepeace understand?  Got it.  Go for the 'I can be bought' option.  What the hell, if Jack can be a thief for the cause, I can be a whore.  It'll make Makepeace happy, it's what he expects.  Just reach down there in the stamina bag and go for it.  One more time, for Jack. 

Jack. 

"Mighty rough universe out here, Doc," Makepeace continues, obviously not convinced by my heart-felt attempt at feigning ignorance.  "Mighty rough.  Things can happen.  Accidents…..can happen.  I'd really HATE to see one happen to you." 

I'll bet. 

"Well, that makes two of us," I smile at him.  "That's why I'm VERY careful to stay away from places where I don't belong.  I don't need trouble, don't go looking for it, and don't do or say anything that'll make it come to my house." 

He flashes me a crooked grin of contempt.  "Mr Lilly-Livered Pacifist, huh?" 

“Colonel," I force myself to smile smugly at him as I continue,  "I don't really know what you're on about and between you and me, I don't really GIVE a shit, either. What you get up to is nothing to do with me.  I've got my own interests to protect.  I don’t believe in biting the hand that feeds me.  Not any more.  I did the 'rebel without a clue thing' four years ago.  Stood up for my 'principles,' and where did it get me?   Out on the street, ruined, disgraced - a laughing stock.  Well, guess who's got the last laugh now?  I've got a sweeter deal now than any of those narrow-minded, self-important assholes will ever see in their entire lives. Security, respect, clout, no competition, unlimited budget and manpower, the ear of a sympathetic general.” 

Ah, that one scores a few points, I see.  The geek likes power, does he? And people who have it?  Well, doesn't EVERYONE?  This is almost too easy. 

Time to let him know I can be bought in other ways as well. 

“And I take home more than you do." I add provocatively. 

His eyes widen, just a bit.  Evidently something he didn't know.  I let it sink in before continuing. 

"I'm going to make trouble - for ANY reason whatsoever -  and risk losing all this?  For what? The opportunity to go back out into the 'real world', to be welcomed back into the loving embrace of my peers? After the way I left, I turn up after four years of deadly silence without so much as a paper to my name and no more proof of my crackpot theories then I had when I left and they're going to be rolling out the red carpet for me?  I don't see it happening.  Do you?” 

Just about there, he's almost convinced.  I affix him with an earnest expression, giving it my all. 

"I admit it.  I've developed a taste for Chateubriand.  Somehow, the thought of going back to Kraft Dinner doesn't appeal to me. If you know what I mean." 

Oh yeah.  That did it. He's starting to chuckle, backing away. He thinks he's got my number.  And it's written in big green letters on the wall of the men's room.  Geek for sale.  Daniel Jackson, whore.  Will look the other way for cash and keeping his high-powered gig.  He’s probably checked out my personnel file, seen enough there of where I came from to make him wonder if I wouldn't be too keen to go back.  Jack once said a little truth helps a big lie go a very long way. 

Now I've just told Makepeace everything he's suspected all along about me is true.  Daniel Jackson the so-called 'do the right thing' guy is really just as much up for grabs as everyone else is. 

Shit.  Bad example. 

He's grinning at me, moving in again.  I try not to flinch as he pats me lightly on the cheek. 

"Glad to hear it, pretty boy," he breathes. 

Yeah, that's me.  Pretty, all right.  Pretty contemptible.  Slip a twenty in my shorts and I'm yours.  Like any other good, hardworking 'professional.'  Looks like I do my best work with an audience after all. 

"You've got a mighty pretty face," he continues, still making with the 'come hither' voice and the hand on the cheek.  I'm thinking I might have just offered him more than I realized.  " I'd hate to have to mess it up.  Hate to have to mess YOU up.  I think we might be able to find a reason or two to keep you around after all.  What say we get together later and \- talk...about it?" 

That's a definite 'ten' on the 'omigawd' meter. Fabulous.  I've just gone from the frying pan to the fire.  Makepeace is no longer planning to cut short my dear, young life. No worries on that score.  He doesn't want to KILL me, he wants to... 

Dammit to hell, now I've saved my neck I've got to worry about saving my ass.  Why don't I EVER see this shit coming before I'm knee deep in it? 

Don't lose your head now, calm down, Daniel, maybe it's not so bad.   At least you know you're not going to be dodging bullets anymore.  As for dodging other things, what are we really talking here? A couple of days.  That's probably it.   I just need to keep him off my back for a couple of days.  Pretty sure it won't be any longer than a few days.  Now Jack's one of the 'Merry Men' he won't waste any time busting the ring. 

One thing for sure, I definitely want to be there to see the look on Makepeace's face when Jack O'Neill comes home. 

"Is there a problem here, DanielJackson?" 

Teal'c's low, deep voice booms so abruptly at my side I almost jump out of my skin.  He's rounded the tree and come upon both of us so unexpectedly.  Thank you, Teal'c!  Your timing, as always, is impeccable. 

 Makepeace is taken equally unawares.  He leaps away from me as if he's been scalded by my proximity. There's a hint of fear in his eye, for just a fraction of a second. 

Oops.  Possibly ANOTHER problem, Colonel?  How long has Teal'c been there?  How much has he heard? How much does HE know?  Whatchaya gonna do about it?  Off him too? See if he comes as cheap?  This day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it, Colonel? 

I k now how you feel. 

What the hey, I'll cut him some slack. Let's just wrap this up and go home.  Then I'll stick like glue to my buddy the Jaffa until Jack comes home.  I'm…..tired.  Who am I kidding?  I passed tired days ago.  Running on caffeine and nervous tension tends to wear after a bit. 

"No, Teal'c no problem at all," I smile at him as I reach out and clasp his shoulder. Trying NOT to looks as if I'm holding on for dear life.  Which I am.  God, I SO am……… "The colonel and I were just catching up about the other night.  He didn't realize civilians couldn't hold their liquor." 

Teal'c's eyebrow shoots so swiftly up his forehead it nearly achieves escape velocity.  Makepeace appears equally surprised. 

"Very well," my friend says softly. "If you are sure.  I also came to inform you Major Carter requires your assistance."  He shoots a glance at Makepeace as if daring the man to challenge his assertion. 

"By all means, Doc," Makepeace gestures back toward the clearing.  "If Carter needs help, get going.  The sooner we get this over with, the better.  We're pretty much done here, anyway." 

Oh, I'd go along with that.  Definitely done. 

  

* * *

We step through the event horizon to a gateroom filled with marines.  With guns. Lots of guns.  Definitely striking an incongruent note.  Not that this isn't a sight which hasn't greeted our return many times before, but hardly under these circumstances.  It's just - us - coming back on schedule, from doing nothing more dangerous than getting a concussion from falling over from boredom. 

So, what's going on? 

Hammond is waiting for us as we reach the bottom of the ramp.  He's got a strange expression on his face, something hovering between anticipation and - disappointment.  Warning bells starting to sound rather stringently. 

We're stopped at the bottom of the ramp and quickly, efficiently relieved of our weapons and equipment.  Okay, now I KNOW something's wrong. 

"Welcome home, SG-1," the general says finally.  "I apologize for the rather unorthodox greeting, but if you wouldn't mind," he pauses, gesturing toward a group of marines standing in front of the blast doors, "please join those gentlemen over there." 

I glance at Sam and Teal'c as we walk toward the spot the general has indicated.  They haven't got any more of a clue what's going on than I do. 

Ah, this is interesting.  Teal'c has subtly steered us away from Makepeace. Bringing us to a stop a noticeable distance from our ersatz leader before moving to stand behind us like a long, dark, silent sentinel.  Glaring fixedly at the man who has been clearly designated not 'one' of us, as if daring him to approach. 

Makepeace takes the hint and doesn't chance it.  He's looking mighty worried.  Can't imagine why. 

I've barely had time to recover from the strangeness when the gate begins to whine with life.  Incoming wormhole.  Incoming traveler.  Someone...coming home? 

The event horizon explodes into existence before us then settles meekly back into the soothing pool of blue.  I've lost count how many times I've seen this sight in the last three years.  It's never seemed more beautiful than it does right now.  Hope casts it in an entirely different light.  No matter how irrational that hope might be. 

Hammond glances up to the technician in the control room, who nods in lieu of announcing the identity of the impending visitor.  The iris stays open.  Whoever's coming, they're anticipated.  Expected.  Probably the reason for the way we were received, and why we've been made to stay here to await the arrival.  Hope gets stronger, and just that much more justified. 

We wait.  No one speaks.  All eyes are upon the glowing circle and the shifting, lambent mysteries it describes. 

A figure comes bounding in from the blue.  Like he's just burst into being the second he came through.  Incandescent with accomplishment he skids to a stop, takes in the room in a glance and grins his satisfaction wider than a mile. 

Jack's back. 

"OPS with a package for General Hammond," he booms at the commander in chief of the SGC.  "Several, actually."  He makes a wide, sweeping gesture toward the event horizon before stepping back to slip his arm into the murmuring pool.   "When it absolutely, positively has to get there, O'Neill delivers.  I believe this is exactly what the general ordered, Sir." 

Jack stands there grinning, so full of what he's done he's fairly bursting.  I can't take my eyes off him as his gaze roves restlessly around us.  My chest is burning, aching with a strange tightness perplexing me until I realize the cause.  I'm holding my breath, unable to draw the next one my body requires as I wait to see what he seems to be looking for. 

Already afire eyes light on mine, sparking with new intensity at finding me.  For the briefest of instants something utterly tangible and yet unmistakably nascent arcs between us, but before it has time to take form or meaning a body hurtles through the event horizon. 

Coming between us. 

The woman is followed by a rapidly running horde whose entrance into our midst is the cue to motion for the soldiers who have until now seemed superfluous.  One by one the breathless, frightened and angry interlopers are intercepted, seized and efficiently apprehended. 

It l ooks like one small band of really un-merry men has been not only located and relocated, but will be finding precious little to laugh about for a very long time. 

Courtesy of Jack O'Neill. 

He's still standing there, holding the door open as a few more confused and disoriented stragglers stumble through.  He's looking away from me now, toward the small knot of manacled ex-bandits he's befriended into their current fate.  The elation is gone from his aspect and manner.  Now he seems shuttered, sad, weary.  It's an unguarded moment of weakness he's allowing himself.  Just a split second of letting the mask of bravado he usually hides behind falter.  Not long, but long enough for one who has eyes to see to understand just how much what he's had to do has cost him. 

For a second a resonant pang of sympathy aches within me.  I hurt with the same secret pain of knowing, like the man before me, what was truly paid in sorrow, risk, and regret for what was gained today. The true scope of the personal cost of the prize. 

At this moment I'm suddenly unsure of whether it's all been worth it.  And I'm wondering if he's thinking the same thing. 

The waiting arms of authority embrace the last of the bandits; Jack rakes his arm across the event horizon with a final, defiant flourish before withdrawing it, thereby at last allowing the gate to shut down. 

I still can't seem to stop watching him as he begins to walk down the ramp, a deceptively neutral expression on his face.  His demeanor might be bland, but hie eyes are snapping and furious; I follow them to the object of his ire. 

Makepeace.  Still pretending to be one of the good guys.  Lending a hand putting the cuffs on the one of the last souls to come through the gate.  Someone he's supposedly never laid eyes on before today, and, no, he couldn't REALLY be that stupid, but it seems he is.  He's said the man's name.  Called him by name, for crying out loud. 

God, he really IS a Jar Head. 

Jack plays it casual all the way as he comes up behind him.  This is going to be good. "Uh, good job, kids," he comments to the marines who have rounded up the other 'rustlers.'   "Gimme one of those, will ya?" 

This to Makepeace.  Who obligingly, serenely, hands him the requested pair of plastic manacles.  The resulting look of outraged shock and indignation he wears as Jack uses them on him brings quite a thrill of savage satisfaction to my soul. 

Thanks, Jack, I needed that. 

"What do you think you're doing?  Makepeace blusters.  He still hasn't worked it out.  Hope he manages to clue in before they sentence him. 

"That would be - my job," Jack dryly informs him.  After throwing him a contemptuous look that would have brought shame to the face of a man three times as guilty, he turns his back on one who rightly deserves to be so censured and walks over to join the general. 

I feel Sam looking at me, needing to know she has an ally in her confusion.  I'm sure my urgent need for the rest of the picture will be interpreted as a reciprocation of her bewilderment. 

I might know WHAT has been going on, but now I need to know WHY.  Why and if it was truly necessary for this ending to have been authored with so much deceit, danger, risk and pain.  If there really was no other way to get from there - to here. 

I need to know if the ends really and truly justified the means. 

"Ladies and gentleman," Hammond intones solemnly,  "I am pleased to announce that you are all under arrest for high crimes against the United States and its allies." 

A quick glance around me at the stunned and furious faces of the recipients of this piece of information tells me they don't share Hammond's sentiments.  Especially Makepeace.  He's glaring at Jack, his face twisted in a cruel mask of brutality by an angry, hate-driven snarl.  His eyes are as dangerous as I've ever seen them, and carry in them the implacable promise Jack's a walking dead man if he has anything to say about it. 

Dream on.  Your days of being everybody's worst nightmare are now officially over. 

Somewhere on the periphery of my awareness I heard the blast doors opening, but caught up as I am by the display of mutual hatred flashing between Jack and Makepeace I don't realize the significance of the sound until she's standing just ahead of me. 

Trevel.  High Chancellor Trevel and her aide.  Here?  Why?  Why should THEY be here?  Now?  What have the Tollan got to do with this? 

Sam elbows me sharply. I see!  I don't know what's going on any more than you do.  However, a quick glance at both Jack and the general tells me THEY do.  Jack in particular seems not at all surprised to see Trevel. But - how could that be - he'd have no way of knowing she'd be here, no reason to expect...unless... 

The last piece of the puzzle slides into place with a wrench that leaves me feeling sick, cold and furious.  As I finally understand what Her Eminence was trying to tell me with her cryptic, parting remarks. 

Sorry to have to put such a nice guy like you through the wringer but when you make an omelet, you first have to break a few eggs.  Nothing personal.  Cost of doing business. 

She was in on it from the start.  Playing me for a sucker on Tollana before I even opened my mouth. The council chamber, her visit to the SGC, all that cold, righteous indignation in Hammond's office, all of it an act.  For my benefit.  Trevel, Hammond, Jack, all giving performances worthy of a nod from the Academy.  The leading lady in particular, playing her part to perfection to an unsuspecting audience of one.  Well, isn't that special? 

Well, Your Eminence I'll give your tenders of respect the due consideration they deserve.  I'd hate to see how you treat people you DON'T like. 

Nice to be given a choice as to whether or not you want to be involved in subterfuge and double-dealing before you're shoved head first into the snake pit anyway.  Or to be in effect told you couldn't be trusted to handle yourself properly, so safer to keep you in the dark. 

I might be too ignorant and naïve to be relied upon to keep a secret but apparently I'm good enough to be used. 

I don't appreciate being a pawn in ANYONE'S game, no matter what the stakes are.  Don't appreciate it at all. Not impressed with having to treat others the same way because I haven't stayed conveniently STUPID.  Given no choice but to play by the rules of a game I haven't agreed to. 

I've started to get a little angry but my swift rise to boil is aborted by an explosive comment from Makepeace. 

"You really blew it, O'Neill," he snarls.  I didn't think it was possible for him to get any uglier but the raw power of his fury has stripped away all his defenses, letting everything he truly is shine through. 

It's not a pretty sight. 

Jack is righteousness personified in the face of his hatred. 

"Oh, I think it came off quite nicely, don't you, General?" he says lightly, with a small smile to the man at his side. 

"Yes, I do."  Hammond nods and favours Makepeace with a stony stare of unending disgust which doesn't even begin to register on the man still focussed and furious on Jack.  Straining and struggling against the hands holding him fast as he spits his threats at my friend. 

"You have no idea how high up this goes!" he roars.  "You've pissed off the wrong people." 

"Like the Tollan, Tok'ra, Asgard, Nox?  Those folks?" Jack counters with a shrug. 

Jack may have waved off this comment as being not worthy of his concern, but I haven't.  Not that it isn't important to keep our allies happy, but they're safely out of reach and insulated from the consequences of what was done to appease them.  If there is hell to pay for what has happened today - they aren't the ones who will suffer. 

Any more than they've had to bear the cost of what it's taken to make them happy. 

Makepeace isn't finished.  He's still got something to say.  I don't want to hear any more from him.  I've already heard too much.  I want to know why it was necessary for Jack to have done all of this alone. 

"They refuse to give us the things we need to defend ourselves against the Goa'uld." Makepeace yells.  Words I've heard before.  Just as obscene out of his mouth as they were out of Jack's. 

"We don't need their stuff, Makepeace.  But we do need them." 

Yes, we do, Jack, but at what price?  At what point do the methods cease justifying the results?  White hats, black hats, if we all do business the same way, use the same cutthroat tricks and same 'whatever it takes to get the job done' rules and the only difference between us is the reason...ideology.... 

The cause... 

"Get them out of here."  Hammond says with a disgusted grunt.  Couldn't agree more. 

Everything I've seen and heard has been deeply disturbing.  I've got far more questions than I'm getting answers for. Looks like I'm not going to get them until I ask a few questions myself. 

Explain this to me!  Now! 

"So, just to, ah, clarify this whole past week," I begin, stepping forward. 

Clarify it.  Explain it to me.  Admit to all of it.  Not just to me, but to Sam and Teal'c as well. 

"… beginning with the appeal we made on Tollana in which I did a lot of hard work, by the way," 

Okay, it's a very small point and a petty one at that, but it's still true. Moreover I hope Trevel chokes on it. 

"I take it that was all a scam." 

I know it was.  You know it was.  Tell THEM, now.  And most importantly, tell us WHY. 

Hammond answers me.  This can't be an easy moment for him.  He's done his duty and our side has won the day and he should be able to feel proud of that fact. While he's glad of the result he's hardly proud of what it's required him to do and I can see he wishes he could tell us this.  But the put-upon members of SG-1 aren't the only ones watching him as he does his best to answer to all of us. Whatever amends he might wish to make to the three people who've been caught in the crossfire have be deferred to political correctness and the rendering of proper respect to the High Chancellor. 

So it's break it to them not so gently, this time. 

"Within the last two weeks the Asgard and the Tollan approached us independently of each other with evidence that we were stealing technology from them." 

Straight to the point.  Let's hear the rest of it. 

"We?  The SGC?" Sam says softly in bewilderment. 

Yeah, Sam, the SGC.  That's what he's saying.  Nice to know your allies think so highly of you they'd believe you capable of being thieves. Wouldn't take your WORD you were blameless of any wrongdoing.  Insisted you had to PROVE you were innocent. 

This is getting better and better. 

"Yes," Hammond continues in the same tone, not acknowledging the disbelief in her voice.  "The Asgard, the Tollan and the Nox were going to sever all ties with us.  But we convinced them the thefts must be the action of a rogue group from outside the SGC." 

'Convinced' them.  Again, implying it was not simply a matter of saying 'we didn't do it' and being believed.  'Convinced' means they originally believed the opposite.  Believed the SGC was a front for interplanetary burglary. 

You'd have to wonder why they bothered having dealings with such a pack of unprincipled felons in the first place.  Guess saving their whole damned planet for them in spite of their determined attempts to prevent us from doing so wasn't a good enough character reference.  Or a sufficient demonstration of the nature of our sincerity for a foundation of trust. 

I'm having a hard time hiding my disappointment in learning how little our 'friends' really thought of us when Trevel speaks.  I can't see her face but her voice resounds with warm maternal friendliness as if we are a bunch of wayward children come lately back into the fold who've just earned a pat on the head for being good. 

"We insisted that you apprehend them yourselves.  You have now regained our trust." 

Trust.  We have regained YOUR trust.  How can you regain something you clearly never had in the first place?  And while we're talking trust here, what do you propose to do to regain ours? 

"So, you set that whole thing up on Tollana in the hopes the mole would think you were one of them and approach you." 

Sam is talking to Jack.  Still thinking like this was his idea, and he had some choice about what he was forced to do. 

I might be looking at Jack, but I'm talking to Hammond.  And Trevel. 

"And you didn't think you could trust us to help." 

Jack didn't set this up.  He didn't make the conditions.  It's not his fault.  But he's the one who's going to get all the blame.  And take all the consequences. 

Trust.  No trust.  None in us.  All thrown on Jack.  Forcing him to hurt us.  Abandon us. Making us BELIEVE he had.  Trust betrayed for the sake of earning trust which should have already existed. And obviously never did. 

It didn't have to be like this.  Didn't have to be like this at all. They should have TRUSTED us…… 

None of us can hide the signs of our distress any longer.  Especially Jack.  Bad enough to have to inflict the wounds the first time, and now, after everything he's had to do alone he's standing there having to look into the faces of his friends and see the pain and confusion he helped put there. 

Nice reward for a job well done. 

"We wanted to assure that your reaction to the colonel's behaviour was as it should be.  And the Asgard insisted that Colonel O'Neill be the only one involved." 

Oh, George, I REALLY wish you hadn't said that.  I can almost forgive being used if it was for the sake of the SGC but the ASGARD!  How DARE they deliberately place him in such danger!  Who the hell do they think they ARE, anyway?  Haven't they done enough to him already? 

"They like me," Jack grins and shrugs extravagantly.  Trying to pass it off as a joke. 

It isn't funny, Jack.  It isn't funny at all.  They like you, huh?  Well, they've got a funny way of showing it. Friends like those, you don't need.  All their 'esteem' has gotten you is a whole bunch more new enemies. 

They 'like' you so much they've put this all on you.  When those people you've 'pissed' off come calling, you're the only one they'll be looking to settle accounts with.  We're in the clear. Lucky us.  Not so lucky you. 

I'm so ticked off at that whole bunch of little grey 'think they're better than us we've got more important things to do than wasting our time helping you out when you've got a problem but stay by the phone, if we need you, you'll be hearing from us' bunch of sawed off hypocrites I want to boot them all the way back to their own galaxy. 

And stay there!  Who NEEDS you! 

"And now, will you come with me, Your Eminence?" 

Good idea. Catch you later. Don't forget not to write.  And say 'hi' to the Nox for us, while you're at it. 

At least the Tok'ra kiss us before they fuck us over. 

The powers that be make their way toward the exit and then they're gone.  The gateroom is empty of everyone but us.  It's just the four of us. 

Back together again.  Three extremely honked off people and one recently rehabilitated hero who is suddenly looking as if he wishes he were dead. 

Tough room, huh, Jack?  You don't know the half of it. 

He decides to go straight for brazen.  Like I ever had any doubt.  No denying the facts, no begging for forgiveness, meet all obstacles and resistance head on and wrestle it to the ground through the sheer force of your dynamic personality and bottomless capacity for bucking the bullshit.  Jack O'Neill all the way. 

"I'm back!" he says with a light voice, a slightly teasing grin and his arms open wide as he strides confidently toward us. 

Take me, I'm yours. 

Who could stay mad at that?  No matter what he's said and done.  Bastard, you knew from the start we all loved you.  So confident in the impeccability of our affection you knew you could afford to make us hate you. 

By rights we should all wring your neck for scaring us like this.  We should.  But we won't.  And don't you just know that, too. 

I'm just glad you're safe, Jack.  Whatever else has happened, that's all that matters.  I'll - I'll hold that thought. Focus on what is, not what's been, or could have been.  I'll just calm down and try to let this go.  Sam and Teal'c are doing it.  And they've got far more cause to be angry than I do. 

Mind you, they'll be plenty pissed at me as well, when I tell them about MY part in all of this. 

 Jack reaches Sam's side and beams those brown eyes right at her.  She resists for a second, trying to hold her indignation up as a shield against the O'Neill charm, but she hasn't a prayer.  Within a couple of seconds she's caving, smiling at him ruefully. 

"It's good to have you back, sir," she says with soft, almost shy sincerity. 

"Indeed," Teal'c rumbles deeply from behind me. 

"Thank you."  His gratitude is quiet, the words barely audible. Deeply relieved.  He's missed us more than he will say.  Especially to himself. 

Now, it's my turn. 

He's looking at me, waiting for me to proffer my verbal endorsement.  Or at least to acknowledge the fact he's here. 

I don't dare say a word because all of a sudden I'm terrified of what will come out of me.  I can barely meet his eyes, which makes him think I'm angry at him. Not much of a stretch for him to make that leap in logic; he knows what he said the last time he spoke to me.  Knows how it must have hit me when I left him.  I can't hide a thing from him.  Couldn't then - haven't got a hope now. 

I'm not angry at him but I have to look away.  I can't let him see what's going on inside until I've had a chance to figure it out for myself. 

I need him to go away, to let me alone. Just for a little while, just to give me time to….. 

"Um, Daniel?" he's calling to me, summoning me with beckoning voice and gestures.  I've moved to his side, feel his hand on the small of my back drawing me close, moving me forward, walking me down the hall to a place I'm not ready to go yet. 

I know what he's saying, what he's trying to do and I make noises of agreement as I only half hear what I'm agreeing to. 

I don't want to do this right now.  Not here, not with Sam and Teal'c right there behind us. 

"That stuff I was talking about at my house……. The place was bugged…..I had to keep up the act." 

He's talking rapidly, words rough, tone awkward, self-conscious, not wanting a moment of misunderstanding to exist any longer between us than is absolutely necessary and yet because our friends are here he's no more able to say what he really wants to than I am. 

"I understand." 

I do.  I do.  I know you didn't mean it. I know you had no choice. We don't have to do this right now.  It can wait. I'm fine.  Don't worry about it. 

Don't worry about me. 

"Obviously the whole friendship thing, the foundation, it's all solid." 

Don't \- don't say those words right now.  Not THOSE ones. 

"Obviously, don't worry about it." 

Please, Jack.  Leave it alone. I mean it. 

"No, no, no I feel kinda…….  I do appreciate that you were the one that came to see if I was okay -  that….that means something." 

Sure it did.  Of course it did. You KNOW it did. That's why all of this worked.  You knew that, they knew that, the whole damned WORLD knew it.  Your willingness to cast what it 'meant' aside was all the proof those bastards needed you were one of them.  When you rejected me, you rejected everything I stood for.  Handed yourself over to them.  And I helped you do it. 

I could have gotten you killed, Jack. 

No…… 

It's so clear, so simple, so awful, all at the same time.  But there it is. 

I know what I have to do. 

"Ah, actually, no it doesn't." 

"Huh?" 

He stops in his tracks.  Astounded.  Can't believe what he's heard.  Sure of me, he's SO sure of me, never even entered his mind to question why I came to him.  That there could have been any other POSSIBLE reason for me to have come to him except because I cared. 

I WON'T be used to imperil him by anyone ever again.  Not even him. 

Jack put himself on the line for something he believed in.  Risked losing everyone he cared about because people who should have known better didn't believe in him.  Or us. 

Well I believe in something.  I believe in him.  I always have. I'm just as prepared to pay the price, to fight for what I believe in, too.  Any way I have to. 

I've no doubt I can do this.  Had a few hard lessons in the last few days about how to get the job done no matter how down and dirty you have to get.  If I've leaned ANYTHING from this experience it's this - it doesn't matter HOW you do it, as long as you do it.  By whatever means necessary.  No matter who you hurt. 

Even if you have to hurt them in order to keep them safe. 

He did it for me.  My turn to return the favour. 

That I HAVE to do this has never been clearer than it is right now.  Now, even after everything he's been through, his first order of business, the very FIRST thing he has to make sure is right - is….us.  Me. He won't let me go until he knows I'm okay.  It's important to him. I'm important to him. 

I'm the chink in his armour.  His vulnerable spot.  That which can be used against him.  The one who matters more to him - than him. 

I can't have that.  So I'm going to have to do something about it.  For his sake. 

Simple as that.  No second thoughts.  No matter what it takes, or what it's going to do to us. 

He's worth the price I'm paying for him. 

"Um, we ah, we drew straws.  I lost." 

The look on his face…..What do you know about that, Jack, this experience hasn't been a total waste after all.  I've picked up a new skill. 

I've finally learned how to lie well enough to fool even you. 

I say it and turn my back on him.  Walk away without a backward glance.  I don't know what Sam and Teal'c have made of what I've said or how they've decided to play the hand I've just dealt them.  I don't care.  I've done what I had to in order to protect him from the danger I pose to him. 

The cost of doing business. 

 I walk away, passing by a world suddenly leeched bare of colour.  Moving blindly forward through shifting, varying shades of grey.  The colours of unrelenting ambiguity and losses without gain.  I'm painfully aware of the piece of me I've left behind with him; it keeps pulling at the empty spot inside me, trying to draw me back.  I can't let it. I keep walking. 

The pain will pass. 

Maybe someday I'll be able to see colours again, too. 


	4. Chapter 4

Home again.  Just me.  Me and my stuff and my fishies and my beer and my jammies.  Nice jammies.  Very nice.  No slippers, no socks.  Just jammies.  Nice jammies. Purrrrpple. 

Oooops! Oh, look at that.  Shit, now they've got beer on them.   Damn. All wet now.  Smelly. Messy.  Mustn't be messy. No messes.  Off - take 'em off.  Damned buttons.  Damned messes. Don't make a mess, Daniel, don't make waves.  No messes. There, that's better. Beer.  Have more beer. 

Ick.  Hate beer.  Drinking it anyway.  This is about EFFECT, not enjoyment. 

Whoah. Plenty effected.  Uh, a-ffected.  Whatever.  Beer number four.  Shooting for six.  Don't think I'm gonna make it. 

"What do you think, Jack, can I drink all six?  Jack?" 

Oh, I forgot. He's a fish.  He can't talk.  Jack hates my fishies. Don't know why, they never did anything to him.  Says they're dumb.  Not dumb.  Jack hates 'em.  So I named the biggest one after him.  He hates him the most.  Wants to buy me a cat just to feed him to it. It to him.  Something gets eaten, anyway.  Then he'd feed the cat to something else. All part of the food chain.  Like beer. 

This is nice.  Sitting on my floor. With my beer. Talking to my fish.  Named Jack. This is fun.  I could get used to this.  Might even get to like beer.  After a few hundred bottles.  Jack would like that.  The other one, not the fish. 

Nope.  Not supposed to be doing this.  No thinking about Jack.  Nope.  Nope.  No Jack.  Jack all gone.  Gone bye bye.  Think of something else.  Grey guys.  Gobs and gobs of greasy grey guys. Kick 'em all to the moon.  Every last one of them, boom, to the moon.  Boom.  Moon.  Hey, that rhymes.  Sorta.  Boom.  There goes anther one.  Boom.  Oops, there goes the beer.  Another mess. 

Boom. 

What's that sound?  There it is again. This place got an echo?  Loud, like pounding.  Yelling.  Daniel?  Hey, that's me.  Who's yelling? 

"Daniel!  Daniel, I know you're in there!  Are you all right?  DANNY!   OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" 

Oh my, language.  Mrs. Fitzsimmons isn't going to like that.  Open the door? That's a joke.  Can't even if I wanted to. Don't know where it is right now. 

Stop yelling.  Go away.  Nothing to see here.  Just fishies and beer. 

Jack?  Where did you come from? 

I'm not seeing too clearly right now, but that's definitely Jack.  Standing over me with a look on his face I've never seen before. Looks half-crazy.  Nutso.  Crackers, bonzo, flipped his lid - 

"Daniel, for god's sake, you scared the CRAP out of me!  Why didn't you open the door?  Jesus Christ, you're - you're drunk! 

He's kneeling beside me.  Now that his face is closer, I can see him more clearly.  Not as blurry.  More certain of what I'm seeing. 

Doesn't look mad any more.  Looks worried.  Puts a hand on my arm, then reaches out and tries to take the bottle from my hand. 

"My beer!"  I protest as I hug it tightly to me.  I need it.  Get your own.

  
He smiles at me like I'm twelve, and shakes his head.  "I think you've had enough, Dannyboy.  You're drunk." 

That's the second time he's said that.  He is mistaken.  I am so far beyond drunk I am practically sublime. 

"That's where you're wrong," I declare loftily as I clutch my bottle to my chest.  "I am not DRUNK!  I am PIXILATED." 

He blinks as I inadvertently spray him.  Serves him right for being in my face.  His eyes, so close.  I can actually see them, now.  So warm, so dark, like big, brown, limpid pools.  Limpid.  I said limpid.  It's a cliché, but there it is. 

"…..Pontificated, obfuscated, marinated, intoxicated, noshed, sloshed, potted, besotted - " 

No, wait, that's not right.  That's - that's something...something else... 

"Whatever you are, Danny, I think you've had enough." 

His eyes are so toasty and warm, as warm as his voice. Like chocolate.  Nice, hot chocolate.  Velvety.  Sweet. Soothing.  No nutritional value whatsoever. 

I think I just made a joke but I don't care.  All I want to do is look at him and feel everything he is seeping into me. Way down deep inside...  I haven't seen him in such a long time and I've missed him so much.  Missed his eyes and his nose and his mouth, the way it kinda quirks, there, in the corner, when he smiles, like that.  Yeah, just - just like that.  Missed that.  Nice smile.  Warm.  Like he is.    He's so nice and...warm, and - and safe, and all of a sudden I'm tired and I feel cold.  So cold, tired.  I want to melt and close my eyes and get warm in him and just let go... 

"Come on, Danny, let's get you to bed so you can sleep this off.  Give me the bottle now, that's a good boy." 

Not a good boy.  Not.  I've been bad. Very bad.  Have to be worse.  He's not supposed to be here.  Not any more.  Have to make him go away. 

"No!"  I snap at him.  "Leave me alone.  I'm fine.  Fine.  Go home, Jack. Just - go home." 

He flinches slightly at my words, pulls away in reaction to my rejection.  I have to look away from him.  I don't want to see how much I've hurt him yet again. 

"I'll see you to bed, first," he says quietly.  "Then I'll go.  I don't want you stumbling around here in the state you're in, hurting yourself. " 

"Don't need your help!"  I protest as he starts to pull me up.  I haven't got the strength or coordination to resist him.  It must be the beer; my body is betraying me, leaning into him, accepting his nearness, his support.  Letting him hold me. 

I'm g etting desperate.  Have to make him go away.  Even though the thought of losing the comfort of his presence is making me shriek inside. 

"I'm fine!"  I protest as I make myself push out at him.  Push him away, I have to push....  "Don't wanna go to bed and even if I did, don't need you to tuck me in!" 

He sighs and tries to quiet my growing struggles.  "Easy Danny, take it easy.  It's me.  Don't do this.  I'm just trying to help.  Let me take care of you." 

Take care of me.  Huh, that's a good one.  NOW he wants to take care of me.  Where were you when Makepeace had me up against a tree offering to make a man out of me? 

His hands are clutching me tightly, fingers biting into my flesh, almost hurting.  His face, flushed red with anger, eyes hard and cold. 

Not warm now. 

"Makepeace?"  he cries.  "What about Makepeace?  What the hell are you talking about, Daniel?  What did that bastard DO to you?" 

Did I say that out loud?  Whoah.  Must have.  He's mad now.  Mad at Makepeace.  Not good enough.  Want him mad at me. 

"What do YOU care?" I throw back at him.  "You were too busy with your PALS.  Your NEW pals.  Your old pals weren't good enough for you.  Not good enough for your little grey buddies.  We're STUPID.  We can't be trusted to keep a secret.  Only Jack.  Just Jack.  Good 'ole JACK. Everybody's PAL." 

He sighs, lets his grip relax.  He's looking at me sadly, now.  Still holding on to me but not hurting.  Not on the outside, anyway. 

"It wasn't like that, Danny.  I swear to you.  You don't understand." 

I'm not pretending now. I'm really angry.  Hadn't meant to be, but I care about him, and what they made him do just wasn't right. 

"I understand plenty," I grumble as I resume trying to break out his embrace.  "I'm not STUPID.  No matter what the Asgard think.  I worked it out before Hammond told us their stupid conditions.  They had no right - no right to make you go it alone.  We're a team.  We've ALWAYS been a team.  Always watch each other's backs.  Team - right Jack?  What you're always saying.  Nobody's alone, not anymore.  All for one.  One for all.  Go team!  We should have been there with you. That's what we do for each other.  Not fair of those greasy grey guys to tell us we couldn't." 

I'm feeling fairly indignant here.  Feel like getting out my list and going down on it - uh, down it.  Jack should take a seat.  Get comfortable.  This is going to take a while.  It's a long list and I'm just getting started. 

Jack's got a funny look on his face.  Don't get it.  Haven't told a joke. 

"Come to bed, Danny," he says gently as he starts to try to lead me out of my living room.  "We'll talk about all of this tomorrow.  Later. When you're not...pixilated." 

Oh no you don't, Jack O'Neill.  I might be obfuscated, but I'm not obtuse.  Just don't ask me to spell it.   You're hiding something from me and you're gonna spill it.  Yeah, that's right.  Spill it.  I must be sobering up.  Or adapting to my current condition. 

"Not going to bed!"  I insist as I give my arm a heroic jerk and actually manage to break his grip.  I pivot about in his grasp, glaring about the room.  "Phone.  Where's the phone?  Wanna talk to George.  Gonna give him a piece of my mind.  Write a letter to the Asgard.  Give them what for, too." 

Jack grabs me again, spins me around, making my head and stomach do a rather nauseating roll. I have no choice, I have to lean against him, rest my head on his shoulder while I try to get my brain to stop sloshing around in my skull. 

His arms around me, holding me firmly.  Warm lips close to my ear whisper gently, sadly. 

"Hammond lied." 

"What?" 

"Hammond lied," he repeats.  A little louder this time.  I DID hear right.  "He thought it would be easier on me, easier on you, if he said the Asgard were the ones who set the conditions." 

I feel cold again.  Really cold. 

"Not the Asgard?"  I say into his shoulder. 

"No," he answers, his voice flat.  His arms tighten around me as if he's bracing me for a blow.  "It was me.  My choice.  I'm the one who wanted all of you out of it.  All of my kids.  But mostly - you. To protect you.  I wanted to keep you safe.  Didn't want any of it to touch you - Danny, I - JE-SUS!" 

He howls as my knee comes up and connects with his crotch.  With a vengeance.  Crumples and drops like a stone to the floor where he lies at my feet, gulping and clutching himself. 

I waver over him and look down, inspecting my handiwork.  Not a contrite bone in my body. 

"Maybe you'll think twice, next time, when you feel an urge to 'protect' me coming on!"  I declaim and then step over him. 

I've decided I need to get some air. Take a hike.  Clear my head.  Go somewhere Jack O'Neill ISN'T. 

But first I have to find my shoes.  And the door. 

This could be a problem. 

Jack's still moaning loudly and cursing even louder.  He's taken my name in vain several times. Talk to the fish, the archaeologist ain't listening. I'm busy. Trying to find my jacket.  Given up on the shoes. 

Better luck with the jacket.  Found one arm.  Just give me a sec, as soon as I get the other one I'm outta here. 

I'm heading for the door when Jack grabs me again. Crap.  I guess I didn't knee him hard enough.  

He's come up from behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest. "Quit fooling around, Danny!"  he grates in my ear.  "Starting to lose my patience, here." 

"What'll it take to get you off my back?" I snap at him as I ram an elbow into his stomach.  He emits a startled puff of air, but doesn't loosen his grip. 

"More than you've got, Dannyboy," he hisses as he begins to haul me back into the apartment.  "You're not going anywhere in this condition except to bed.   Stop fighting me, you're gonna lose." 

Wrong thing to say, Jack. 

I've been pushed around, put upon, threatened, bullied, hauled about, made to heel just one too many times.  I'm done being everyone's whipping boy.  Even yours. 

I stomp down hard on his instep, hard enough to make him loosen his hold, even though I'm not wearing shoes.  Then I bring my arms up swiftly under his to break his grip across my chest. 

Element of surprise - working in my favour.  He doesn't think I'm capable of being this coordinated, the state I'm in, so I'm halfway to the door again before he recovers from his shock and comes after me once more. 

Almost make it.  My hand is practically on the doorknob.  I'm yanked back again.  Jack's starting to piss me off. 

I whirl around swinging. Not only do I miss him, but am almost carried to the floor with the force of the attempt. I'm totally humiliated to feel him catch me and stop me from falling over on my face. 

We struggle, tussle, him trying to stop me, control me.  Me just trying to make him let go. We lurch down the hall, colliding with the walls. Burst into the living room, still flinging each other about. We bump into a shelf.  Something falls, crashes. BREAKS.  Bastard!  I swing at him again, hitting him this time.  He swears, his hold on my other arm relaxes, I jerk abruptly away from him. 

Free. 

"Danny!"  he cries, eyes wide with alarm.  I take another abrupt step back, only to feel the hard edge of the coffee table against the back of my legs.  Balance thrown, I'm flailing my arms wildly, trying not to go over.  He's reaching toward me, straining to catch my hand. 

Not going to make it. 

Falling over, can't stop myself.  Pain explodes in my brain as the back of my head hits.... 

  

* * *

……waking up...what?  Was I sleeping?  Was I - no.  Not - not  sleeping.  Jack...we were...and I...fell down, must have - did I hit my head?  Where…what's going on?  Sound - what's that - that AWFUL sound... 

Jack?  That's - that's Jack!  Oh god, Jack!  Don't! 

I've never understood why the first reaction one usually has to the tears of another is to try and make them stop.  I think I do, now.  It's not out of concern for the sufferer.  Not to comfort them.  It's to make that - that SOUND...stop. 

Terrible sound.  The dreadful anthem of an overburdened heart.  Pain given form and expression.  Nothing anyone wants to hear. 

Someone is holding me tightly.  I'm cradled in unrelenting arms, nestled against a chest heaving erratically beneath my cheek.  Being rocked almost compulsively as sorrow rains down around me. 

Jack's lips move against the top of my head as he grips me with renewed ferocity, takes another shuddering breath and continues to brokenly reiterate, "Sorry, sorry, sorry…" 

Jack...Jack's...crying.  Never.  Never cried before.  I've never seen him cry.  Not for anything.  Now, he's - because I - 

God, what have I been doing?  Being an ass.  A drunken ass.  All that stuff we were fighting about - doesn't matter.  Not important.  Not if it does this to Jack. 

I try to reach up to him, but evidently am yet a bit shy of recovering full motor control.  "Jack?"  I croak as my hand flops ineffectually at my side. 

He hisses sharply in surprise, the hand cupped protectively about the back of my head trembles. 

"Danny?" 

His voice is a wrenching mixture of joy and disbelief.  The too real vulnerability of the sound echoes sickly inside me. 

"I thought I'd killed you," he says with horrible, fatalistic conviction.  Then sighs with shuddering grief once more as he draws me even closer into the full force of his relief. 

"The way you fell - that sound, when your head - I thought you were dead. Only for a sec, 'til I got to you, but it was enough.  Oh God, enough - too much…."  

His face is so deeply buried in my hair I can barely hear the agonized confession. "You were lying there, so still, so pale -  broken -   Couldn't fix it.  Couldn't make him better.  Oh God, Danny if I'd hurt you too!." 

I'm feeling a lot more lucid than I should be.  My head is remarkably clear for all I've just done to it. 

Maybe the fall did me some good.  Knocked some sense into me.  Better late than never, I suppose. 

"What, you kidding me?" I sally forth, trying for casual toss away and ending up sounding faltering.  "It'd take more than a bump on the head to do ME in." 

"Yeah," Jack sniffs, still not giving an inch of the hold he has on me.  "Forgot how hard it was." 

He starts to shake once more as release and reaction overwhelm him.  His arms quiver as another wave of pain sweeps through him. 

"Lost you," he chokes.  "Thought I'd….thought  - " 

The gasped expression of his anguish is soundless.  I can't stand it anymore. 

"Hey..."  I try to reach him with my voice as I finally manage to make my hand work.   I pat him gently on the back to get him to listen to me. 

"It's okay, Jack." 

His hand curls in my hair, he crushes me savagely to him and begins to rock with an angry, almost obsessive rhythm.  His chest vibrates with the cruel sounds of self-hatred as the words come pouring out of him and into me. 

"No it's NOT okay, Danny!  Stop trying to cover for me all the time \- I've screwed up!  I've screwed it all up! Had to have it my own way, had to play God, Mister Shit Hot Protector who thinks he knows what's best for everyone and the truth is all he knows is how to screw up.  Every damned thing I touch - I hurt everyone I love, make it SO easy for them to hate me." 

He's going to listen to me if it kills him. 

"I don't hate you, Jack," I say loudly as I give him another pat on the back.  "I was a LITTLE angry with you, okay, but I don't hate you.  Not hate.  Never, never that." 

He stops rocking, frozen in motion.  He's heard me. I say nothing as he holds me without moving, considering what I've told him. 

"Well, you should," he finally answers in a worn, tired voice.  Sounding more like himself, finally, than he has since I came to.  "You should hate my guts for what I did and said to you." 

"That's not what I was angry about, Jack."  I'm still feeling a little fuzzed by the beer, not to mention the bump on the head, and am finding it easier to focus my thoughts if I maintain the gently stroking motions my hand is making up and down Jack's back. 

it s eems to be soothing him as well.  I can feel the tension in his body starting to ease as my words and touch gradually coax the self-loathing out of him. 

"I knew the whole thing was an act," I tell him. "The business on Tollana.  The 'bad boy O'Neill', shit at the SGC. The crap at your house.  I worked out what you were up to.  Even figured out why. Well, mostly, anyway.  Give me a little credit. You were just doing your job. I understood that. What I DON'T understand is why you didn't trust me enough to let me help you.  I thought we were better friends than that, Jack. Thought you had more confidence in me. I wouldn't have let you down.  But you didn't trust me enough to let me try." 

He draws back from me abruptly.  His tear-stained, haggard face is shocked and he shakes his head in dismay as he makes his swift, defensive protestations. 

"Aw, Danny!  You've got it all wrong. It wasn't like that! Wasn't because I didn't trust you.  No way. Trust you with my life." 

"Then why didn't you let me back you up?" I press.  "If you knew I could do the job, why cut me out?"  Not letting this point go.  I can't.  Too much at stake here.  If I can't trust him not to put himself in this kind of needless danger again, I don't know what I'm going to do. 

"I had to," he sighs with regret, but also complete candor. "This was nothing you could get involved in.  Had to keep you out of it.  For your sake.   Just the way it had to be." 

I feel anger swelling up inside me again and struggle to control it. I don't want to lose my temper, don't want to shut him down with my ego-driven indignation.  I'm not entirely successful.  I see him flinch, imperceptibly, as he reads me as unerringly as only he can. 

"I don't need you to shield me from danger, Jack.  I face it every time we walk through the gate together. Always have. You don't try and keep me under glass out there, don't seem to think I can't cut it as a member of SG-1 so why - " 

"Not the same thing," he replies quickly, amputating the rest of my statement.   "The rules of that game are fair. Black and white. Straight up. You know them, accept them, can understand them.  They've been hard to take, but they haven't changed…..you.  Not like this could have.  I couldn't take the chance of that happening to you." 

"I don't understand." 

His eyes squeeze shut for a second as if he's in pain, and a gust of bitter laughter wrenches from him.   He cups my cheek with a trembling hand and when his eyes open once more they look down at me with aching tenderness. 

"No, Danny, you don't understand, thank god you don't and I pray to god you never will.  I made that call to keep you from ever having to, and if you hate me for it, so be it.  I'll do whatever it takes to keep shit like that from touching you. It won't get you. Ever.  It won't change you.  Not as long as I'm alive to make damned sure it doesn't." 

I can't speak.  I'm bewildered by his words and fascinated by the force and fervour of his emotion.  He's looking at me with the fire and passion of a man who's finally found a cause worth dying for.  And god help anyone who tries to stop him from doing it if he has to.  He's looking at me like I'm his personal Holy Grail. 

Or simply his version of the meaning of life.... 

"I've just come home from taking a plunge into a cesspool, and it's gonna take a long time to get myself clear of the stench. That business out there was down and dirty, the people I had to rub elbows with - worse. They don't play nice, Daniel, and they don't play games someone like you would have a chance in. You go in into their arena and try to play fair and you get eaten alive. It's strictly survival of the slimiest.  No rules, no honour, no conscience, no quarter. You gotta trust me on this." 

He sighs deeply and strokes my cheek with sincere regret.  As if he's trying to mitigate the awfulness of the truth he is sharing with me.  He doesn't want to, but I asked for it.   And he's giving it to me. 

"That rat-hole of thieves and traitors was no place for someone like you. And the people they worked for are even worse. Not getting their hands on you.  Never.  Me?" he shrugs.  "They can't do any worse to me than I've already done myself. With all the things I've seen and done I've sold my soul a hundred times over, so what difference does it make if I get it a little dirtier for the cause?  Figure walking by your side has helped me buy a little bit of it back.  I keep trying, anyway, 'cause you've shown me I've got something to fight for again. Some reason, finally, for being here." 

"What are you talking about, Jack?"  I'm dismayed at what I'm hearing.  How can he see himself this way?  It's just not true! 

 "You're better than all of them," I tell him firmly. 

"Nice of you to say so," he sighs as his thumb moves gently across my cheek. 

But that still doesn't make it true.  He doesn't put it words, but I can see it in his eyes. 

"I don't just SAY so, it IS so!"  I'm so indignant on his behalf I'm starting to stutter.  "You - you're one of the - no \- the bravest person I've ever known! And unselfish! You never hold back - never turn away! Never say no to anyone who needs you! You've helped save the world, more than once.  How many people can say that?" 

He's smiling now, a wide, tremulous smile, so much affection in his expression it's warming me to the very centre of my being. 

"Save the world.  Big deal. What's that?  My duty?  Go out there like a good colonel and give them hell for the flag, Uncle Sam, Mom and apple pie?    That's not enough, anymore. Not what I do it for.  The world can go to hell in a hand-basket and already has for all I care; I did it for you. YOU! You're what's worth putting myself on the line for. You're different from the rest of us.  You see things, know things.  What you 'are' has to be protected. And anyone who wants to mess with it is going to have to answer to me.  You're the only 'world' I'm fighting for, Danny.  All the rest of that 'rah rah' crap doesn't mean squat to me anymore without you." 

His eyes are devouring me as he lays himself wide open.  I've never seen him more earnest, more serious. 

More scared. 

"I cut you out for your own good.  I can't explain it to you any other way, Danny. I just can't. I know you're angry with me because of it and I'm sorry for that, but not for what I did.   I'll do it again if I have to.  Whatever it takes to keep you being you. It's what I HAVE to do, in order \- in order to be me.  I hope you can understand that.  And can forgive me." 

His eyes hold me as he begs me to grant his request with every fibre of his being.  He knows what it means for both of us if I can't.  Or won't. 

How - how can I not?  What can I say in the face of such honesty and devotion except -  I wish I'd known sooner.  I don't know whether to laugh or cry, he tried so hard, meant so well, thought he was doing the right thing, doesn't  know when he went out there, alone, without me, thinking me safe, fighting for them, for us - for me. 

He d oesn't know what went on at 'home' while he was gone. 

Everything he was trying to protect me from - I was back here, alone, without him, right in the middle of it.  He doesn't know.  What I did.  For him.  What I WOULD have done.  For him. 

That 'soul' of mine you think so highly of, Jack?  I'd sell it in a minute for you. 

I think we almost made a terrible mistake.  I think we need to talk.  About a lot of things.  Talk…….   Maybe, maybe later.  Right now, I can't even think.  I keep looking up, into his eyes, seeing, seeing something new and yet familiar.   I know this look, this light.  Has a name, I KNOW this, can almost feel…..coming, coming close…… 

He laughs suddenly, with relief, as he reads the wonder in my expression.  A sheepish look overtakes his face. 

"Listen to me going on about keeping you safe," he sighs.  "Look what I've done to your place. I've done more damage here than a horde of Jaffa.  I - I busted your door," he confesses. 

I say nothing. 

"Busted up some of your stuff. That vase you had over there isn't looking so good." 

Oh God, I hope it wasn't the canopic jar.  "Oh, that old thing," I smile weakly as I force myself not to look. 

"Busted the table up pretty good."  His voice is getting softer, as are his eyes. The warmth of his hand cupping my cheek... 

"Busted up you." 

"My own personal vandal," I blurt suddenly, not sure why. "Need a little havoc and destruction in the comfort of your own living room, no need to look any farther than Jack." 

I'm teasing him a little, hoping to make him feel better.  That's right, that's why I'm babbling non sequiters in his face.  Not because I'm suddenly nervous, unsettled by the light in his eyes, and the strange fluttering feeling in my chest, moving in time to the gentle stroking of his fingers on my face. 

When I'm nervous, I burble. Compulsively.  Open my mouth and out it comes.  The first flitting thought in my whirling brain sees its chance and takes flight. 

"That is to say vandal as the term has come into common usage, meaning a person who deliberately damages property, not to be confused with the Vandals.  Vandals as in Vendsyssel, but you've got to be careful about that sort of place-name evidence.  And no, it's got nothing to do with the Vendel Period, so don't ask, not that you would.  Anyway, a bit of a blood-thirsty lot, the Vandals - if you go with Procopius, you might think they were the Goa'ulds of the time…. makes me wonder whether Belisarius was a Tok'ra -" 

"Yadda," Jack says softly, his eyes shining. 

The word impels me into instant silence.  An almost Pavlovian response that's developed to a 'signal' Jack's had to give to me on more than one occasion due to a propensity I have for….. going off in all different directions. It means the same thing now as it always has. 

You're drifting off topic.  Focus. 

Come back to the point. 

Point...taken. 

I look up into the face of the man who encompasses everything that makes MY life worth living, to see a single tear slipping down his cheek.  The only one I've actually witnessed, though I'm full of the memories of the passage of many others.  I reach up to wipe it from his face, as if in so doing I could take away the traces of everything that's hurt him. 

His deep, enveloping eyes speak a silent, unmistakable question as he turns his head and brushes his lips against my palm.  The caress is sweet but electric, coursing through me as his aching but respectful gaze asks permission. 

I move my hand along his face, curve it around his head until it rests upon the back of his neck, and give it. 

He guides my head up toward him as his mouth descends to nestle into mine. 

Love.  This is what love tastes like. Such a distant memory, but unforgettable, unmistakable.  What I saw in his eyes I now know from his lips as they tremble upon mine with hunger and exaltation.  I taste his reverence and relief, happiness and total wonder in finally being here with me, feeling me kissing him back in kind. 

Jack loves me.  And - and I... 

What was tender, sweetly tentative becomes deeper, stronger.  He responds to my welcome with increasingly ardour, moving inside my mouth with hotly questing intensity.  My head reels with a new kind of intoxication.  I'm falling swiftly under his spell, becoming quite drunk with his mouth, his smell, his breath, coming raggedly, swiftly into me, panting, filling me with life.  His life. 

As he moans and murmurs my name I feel something inside me break free, something long hidden, almost forgotten, walled away in the part of me I thought would never live again. 

The place locked away deep inside me, withholding the secret it guarded \- even from me.  The part that loves him and has always loved him and knew this one, essential truth even though I didn't, now spills out of its sundered prison, filling all of me. 

I...I love Jack. 

I feel my head spinning with realization, joy and the sudden, urgent need to breathe.  The room spins, darkens, I feel as if I'm falling and clutch desperately at the support I know will never fail me. 

"Oh Danny, easy there," Jack chides gently.  "Don't worry, I've got you.  Little too much all at once, huh?" 

"I guess," I gasp, not quite able to open my eyes yet.  He holds me.  He waits.  I'm okay.  Jack's got me. 

"Sorry?" he asks me when he knows I can see him. He doesn't say for what, but I know what he means. 

"No way.  Never."  I smile up at him, and his shy, pleased grin is a sight I'm never going to forget. 

"Gonna give me any grief about tucking you in for the night this time?" 

"No," I shake my head and wish I hadn't.  "I surrender." 

"I don't buy that for an second," he laughs as he helps me to my feet. "You might bow to the occasion but you'll never surrender." 

How well you know me, Jack. 

Better than I knew myself, it would seem. 

We thread our way carefully through the battle-zone, and by the time we make it to my bedroom Jack is almost bearing my entire weight on his shoulders.  Too many late nights.  Too much worry.  Possible concussion. 

Way too much beer.   I'm ready to crash and sleep for a week. 

He sweeps back the quilt, slips my jacket off and gently lowers me to the waiting mattress.  I already have my arms around his neck and pull him swiftly down to me before he can move away. 

"Don't go," I plead as I hug him tightly. 

"Don't worry," he kisses me softly.  "As long as you'll have me, I'll stay." 

"Okay. Tired.  Have to sleep, now." 

"I know," he reassures me as he pulls the blankets over us, and settles my head on his chest.  "Sleep's good.  You sleep.  We'll both sleep. Everything's all right, now." 

"All right," I echo with some difficulty.  Getting hard to think. To talk.  Too tired for anything but falling into the safety of the strong arms encircling me, feeling the heart beneath me beating its steady tattoo of fidelity.   I trust what it's telling me, let its strong, comforting rhythm soothe me into the first real sleep I've had in what feels like forever. 

  

* * *

I surface slowly, painlessly, drifting languidly upward through a sea of serenity.  Attaining awareness by sweetly effortless increments.   The closer I draw to awakening the better I feel.  Safer, more secure, more certain the world I am approaching is one I truly wish to exist in. 

For the first time in a long time I'd rather be awake then still dreaming. For what's waiting for me in reality is far better than anything I've ever dreamt. 

Love carried me to sleep and now it receives me once more.  I come awake to the feeling of strong arms surrounding me and the almost forgotten sweet stirrings of my body to a touch it aches to feel. 

Love.  Being loved. 

I lie in Jack's arms without moving, drinking in the sensations.  Drown in the feeling of his hand moving slowly down my back, stroking me tenderly, touching but not intruding.  I bask in it, desire burgeoning within me as gently as the hand invoking it. 

I should let him know I'm awake.  He's trembling with the need to touch me, and yet won't take the chance he's not free to.  After all, I was a little drunk last night.  And confused.  As far as he knows, I don't remember what happened. Or that we kissed, even.   He's probably afraid I'll wake up and look at him and say something like 'how much did I have to drink last night and what are you doing in my bed?' 

Not as much as he wants to - or I want him to, for that matter, but no way he's going to press his luck until he's absolutely sure of his welcome. 

I g uess it's back to me to give him the opening he's looking for. 

I'm still too drowsy to do much more than submit willingly to the incredible sensations surging through me, so I give him a low 'ummmm' of encouragement and press into him.   When his hand freezes, I moan again.  This time with disappointment. 

He resumes stroking me with wordless intensity.  Still softly, slowly, gently, but the strokes get longer, start to range farther afield upon my tingling, hungry skin. 

He starting to chart me in earnest.  Exactly what I had in mind. 

Not just hands now.  Encouraged by my responses he's gotten bolder.  Warm, moist lips are exploring my neck, moving across my chest, excited by the evidence of my escalating receptivity. The hand on my back moves lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my pajamas as his tongue rasps hotly over my right nipple. 

The intensity of the stimulation sheers through me with an unexpected jolt.   I've never been touched like this when I've loved before, never experienced this unsuspected, but exquisite pleasure. The shock of it makes me gasp, arch toward him and beg for more. 

I don't have to ask twice. 

Strong fingers cup my buttocks, then knead the flesh with delicious avidity.  He licks the nipple again before taking it in his teeth and gently nipping it. I'm so far gone in the resulting pleasure I'm naked without having a clue when and how I've been separated from my jammies. 

I don't waste much time worrying about it. 

The fire in my loins is becoming an unbearable ache as he begins to kiss an excruciatingly pleasurable path down the length of my torso.  Evidently enjoying what he is encountering as much as I am enjoying the journey.  His hand is making a simultaneously roundabout voyage around my hip, bound, I am hoping, for the Promised Land. 

Not sure which traveler I'm rooting for to get there first.  Just so long as they don't take much longer. 

His hand rests on my hip as he moves slowly over me, back up to take a long, lingering taste of my mouth.  He rubs his cheek against mine, his lips hover close to my ear, his hot breath banking my inner fire. 

"Danny," he whispers, making my name sound like a prayer. "Are you...are you sure?" 

I answer him the only way I can.  As I turn my face until our mouths mingle once more, I take his hand and place it firmly upon my equally firm ticket to paradise. 

I can't make my total, absolute agreement with his intentions any plainer.  He gives a happy sigh and takes me at my word. 

His tongue slips into my mouth as his fingers wrap around me.  I can't believe how exciting it is to be touched...like this...by someone else...again.   Not just anyone.  Him.  To feel HIM, holding me, exploring me while he's kissing me, chuckling softly at the way I'm moaning and thrashing. He nibbles my lower lip, licking it teasingly before diving down, sucking urgently, hotly, tongue thrusting, swirling, tasting his hand tightens and pumps and sends me jolting, writhing, higher, closer... 

……over the edge into bliss.  Sobbing, screaming for him as I shudder uncontrollably with joy, my body wracked and singing with completion.  Not an end, but only the beginning. 

He gathers me into his arms. I'm fainting, laughing, crying, and half-unconscious with the pleasure he's just given me.  He murmurs soothing syllables as he strokes my hair and pets me with infinite, supportive affection as I come back down. 

"So are you gonna live?"  he chuckles lightly in response to signs I'm finally back. 

"God, I hope so," I gasp.  "I think life just got a whole lot more interesting." 

"I'm hoping," he says sincerely, as he gently kisses me. 

"I think I'm ready to widen my realm of experience," I answer him with equal sincerity as I reach out and touch HIM for the first time. 

Well, with my HAND, anyway.  I'm hoping what I've got in mind right now will go a long way toward making up for another way we 'connected' last night... 

His eyes widen and he gasps as I feel his need, straining and twitching through his cloth covered crotch.  "Looks to me as if you have a problem," I tell him as I lick the side of his face and start loosening his belt.  "I think I have the solution." 

"I'm all ears," he croaks as I lower his zipper and free him. 

"Not from what I'm seeing," I reply and then lick my lips. 

  

* * *

We have a busy morning, which spills well into the afternoon.  At least I think it's afternoon.  Sun's still up.  Could be afternoon. 

Ah, who cares?  Not like I've got anywhere else I have to be.  Or anywhere else I'd rather be. 

Jack heaves a deeply contented sigh and drops his hand on my head.  His fingers fumble absently with my hair as we lie quietly and completely entwined together. 

Inside and out. 

I'm feeling myself drifting back into a comfortably satiated languor when I become aware the man beside me is thinking about something.  I can't tell you how I know, I just do. 

Jack's got something on his mind.  It's not much longer before I find out I'm right. 

"So Daniel," he says quietly as he plays with my hair.  "You knew the whole thing was a put on. 

"Yeah."  I think I know where this is going, but I'll wait for him to tell me. 

"You knew I was faking." 

"Yeah." 

"How?" 

"I know YOU, Jack." 

"Oh." 

He sounds rather pleased with this explanation and lapses into silence.  But he's not fooling me. He's not done yet. 

"You knew I didn't mean what I said.  So you weren't mad at me, for saying it?" 

"No." Oh dear, sounds like I'm not the only one who's connected a few dots.  Jack might go glassy-eyed when faced with the prospect of trying to grasp wormhole physics, but you can't fool him when it comes to people. 

"Drew straws, Daniel?" he says lightly, but accusingly. 

Oh boy, here we go. 

"Oh, uh, well, I - I can explain, that."  I'd rather not, but I can. 

"Geez \- you were doing the Yearling!" he supplies excitedly, as if in a sudden fit of inspiration. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"You know!" he says frowning, making a slightly impatient gesture.  "The kid with the orphaned deer he raises and then has to set free when it grows up and the thing won't go so he has to throw rocks at it and yell at it to drive it off and make it go away.  THAT deal.  You were doing that!" 

Oh. That's an uncomfortable analogy.  Carrying an aspect to the scenario I hadn't considered at the time. The boy had to shoot the deer.  Had to deal it the fate he'd been trying to spare it by hurting it 'for it's own good.' 

So much for good intentions.  And arrogant presumption.  Thinking you've got the right to make another's choices for them.  For their own good.  I can hardly claim the moral high ground here.  Just as guilty.  We're quite a pair, my Colonel and I.  Fighting over which one gets the right to fling themselves on the hand grenade first.  For the other's good.  Good intentions, but an ultimately futile effort.  On both sides.  Futile effort, waste of time, all it brought was hurt, for all our good intentions...  
  

I've gone as far down this road as I want to at the moment. I linger any longer and he's going to know I'm thinking things I'd rather not get into right now.  Not now. Not when we're so newly happy, coming from a place of such recent, mutual fragility. 

"Returning you to the wild?" I grin teasingly at him.  "I have to confess the idea has crossed my mind on more than one occasion \- OW!" 

"Next time it'll be the ass, not the head," he grumbles.  "Answer the question." 

Yeah, it was something like that," I admit quietly. 

"Okay," he nods as he resumes stroking my head.  "Now we're getting somewhere.  I'm guessing, however, you're not really into the idea of telling me why, right now." 

"I can think of better things to do with our time, yeah." 

The hand resting on my stomach moves down to rest atop my - 

Oh my God!  I haven't thought about her in YEARS! 

"But we'll get to it," he continues, unaware I've turned a mental corner and am trying desperately not to burst into laughter over what I've found lurking there. 

"What?"  I say somewhat desperately.  I know he wants an answer but I don't know the question. 

"I said, we'll get to it."  He raises his head so he can see my face.  "Right?"  Suspicion tinges his tone. 

"Right."  Get to it - drawing straws.  We'll get to it.  Hopefully BEFORE he hears about 'not trusting his command.' 

Can't wait for THAT one. Yeah, you're right, Jack, I've been biding my time, just waiting for the moment I could get you for Plant Boy, Spacemonkey, geek and a host of other 'endearments'.  If he doesn't buy it I can always fall back on pouting. 

All's fair in love and war. 

"Okay, what's so damned funny?" 

"It's \- it's nothing."  Shit, giggling now.  He'll never buy it. 

"Why don't you let ME be the judge of that?" 

Oh, what the hell.  Suppose I have to give him SOMETHING to hold over me.  Make him feel better about a LOT of things he's going to be hearing shortly…… 

"I was just thinking about Mrs. Smythe-Jones." 

"There's a story goes with this, right?" 

"Oh yeah.  Good one, too.  Oh my, that feels nice.  Uh, anyway, Mrs. Smythe-Jones was this rather British and eccentric woman my parents briefly engaged as a governess cum babysitter when I was five. She didn't last long, long story, but during the time I was entrusted to her severe loving care I was constantly harangued about the evils of the flesh and the particular fate which would await me as a consequence of playing with - as she quaintly put it - my Mortimer." 

"Your WHAT?" 

"My Mortimer.  What YOU'RE playing with right now." 

"Ah," he grins.  "THAT old thing. OW!" 

"Next time, I'll bite.  Anyway, I was just thinking.  I wonder what she'd think if she could see who's playing with my Mortimer now." 

I look up at Jack in time to see the huge grin on his face. 

"She'd probably be Mortified.  I know I wouldn't mind." 

I have to kiss him.  Right before I give him everything else that's coming to him. 

What a difference a day makes.  Yesterday, without him, everything was grey.    I thought I was doing the right thing when I denied him. 

I was wrong. 

He had other plans. Wouldn't accept my sacrifice.  The choice I had no right to make for him.  Everything grey has been banished by his brightness. And I can no more be without him, now, then he could be without me. 

Nor will he ever be without me again.  We'll be talking about some choices he made on my behalf, well intentioned, but no more right than what I did - for him.  Somehow I don't think it'll take much convincing.  I think he 's figuring out the same thing I'm coming to.  I'm sure he is.  He's much smarter than he likes to let on.  Especially when it comes to what really matters. 

Our power, our strength, our protection, everything we need.  It's here.  Right here.  The two of us, together. Not separate.  Not apart.  Together.  We almost missed it, came close to never even knowing it, but thank god, almost is not the same as never. 

Maybe somewhere beyond these walls there are things seeking the dark and twisted paths.  Willing to do the unspeakable for their own contemptible purposes.  But together, we're stronger than all of it.  It can't touch us here, and it won't.  Together we'll walk through the valley of shadows, unscathed. 

And god help anyone who tries to stop us. 


End file.
